


Dependency II: Secrets

by walkingivy



Series: Dependency [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 03:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 29,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3635502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkingivy/pseuds/walkingivy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Enterprise is sent to check in on a ship that’s become strangely unresponsive, they find a missing crew and emotion-sucking aliens.  This story is pre-slash of the Spones variety.  Makes more sense if you read the prequel ‘Dependency’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

.o0o.

Part 1

.o0o.

“Vulcan?  You want to go to Vulcan?  Now?”  To say that Kirk was surprised by the request was an understatement of epic proportions.  Spock didn’t request leave. 

“I do not need to depart immediately.”  Spock assured his captain.  “I thought it would be most efficient to wait until we passed the Intrepid on its return to Vulcan in one month’s time.  I can see no reason that they should oppose my accompanying them.”

Kirk furrowed a brow.  “Why do you need to go?”

“It is personal.”

The strange meter in Kirk’s brain passed odd and headed straight for weird.  Still, Spock had a right to his privacy.  “Okay… How long?”

“I believe a week should be sufficient.”  The turbolift reached its destination, and Kirk contemplated whether he should hold it and maintain privacy.  Spock wasn’t giving specifics, though, and Kirk was too damn tired.

“I’m sure we should be able to get along well enough without you for a week.   How will you get back?”

Spock followed Kirk out of the turbolift and towards the officers’ quarters.   “There is a supplies transport heading to Starbase 6 at approximately the same time.  The Enterprise is scheduled to dock there in one month and fourteen days.”

Kirk nodded.  He didn’t want Spock to leave, but the Vulcan wouldn’t be asking unless he had to.  “I think that should be fine.  Barring an emergency, of course.  Feel free to contact the Intrepid and confirm.”

“Captain.” Spock continued, folding his hands behind his back, “I request that Dr. McCoy accompany me to Vulcan.”

Kirk turned sharply.  His mental strange meter was soaring into the WTF section. “Why?”

“It’s personal.”

“You’ve already asked him?”

“Yes.”

“And he _agreed_?”  Kirk was baffled.  Why would Bones want to go to Vulcan if not for Spock’s health?  And if Spock wasn’t healthy, wouldn’t he follow regulation and tell his captain?

Spock’s face was unreadable.  “Affirmative.”

“You’re not sick, are you?”

“Negative.”

“That changes things.”  Kirk paused long enough to let Spock talk, but he said nothing.  “I can’t let both my Chief Medical Officer and my First Officer go gallivanting across the universe without knowing why.”

“It is the captain’s prerogative.” It was the closest Spock would come to calling Kirk stupid.

“Of course, but I have to file your leave, and if the Admiralty asks questions, I won’t have any answers.  You are two of my most senior officers, and I need you here.”  Kirk sighed. “You may go by yourself or stay here.  But unless you give me a good reason to send you both, the answer is no.”

“Understood.” Kirk waited a beat to see if Spock would say anything further.  He didn’t so Kirk bid him farewell and entered his room.  He slipped off his shoes and slid under the covers, not bothering to change. 

That was a weird conversation.

.o0o.


	2. Chapter 2

.o0o.

Part 2

.o0o.

                “Captain.”  Rand was waiting patiently beside his chair, and Kirk suspected that that hadn’t been the first time she’d attempted to get his attention.  He’d been distracted thinking over the events of the last week.  What they’d assumed were random acts of violence on the part of a barbaric, unintelligent creature had, in fact, been the desperate protective gestures of a mother attempting to save her children.  While he couldn’t forget how tragic and wasteful the miners’ deaths had been, meeting and communicating with the horta had been an unforgettable experience. 

                “Yes?” Rand pushed a PADD into his hands, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else on the Enterprise.  That expression was usually reserved for when Kirk was feeling cranky.  So, he suspected that something on this PADD would make him cranky. 

                Kirk skimmed down the list of status updates.  Most of them were unimportant.  The Enterprise hadn’t been engaged in any altercations recently, so the engineering section was unusually short.  And then he spotted it, or rather, them.  Two formal requests for a week’s leave from Spock and McCoy.  Kirk frowned.  A formal request meant that Kirk had to make a formal reply.  He sighed and signed off on the document, handing the PADD back. 

 It irked him to no end that his two best friends were clearly keeping secrets from him.  Ever since they’d returned from Bloringdia, they’d been subdued, secretive and spending inordinate amounts of time together.   He was man enough to admit that he was jealous.  Typically, he was the glue that held those two opposing forces together.  He just didn’t get it.  They were still arguing, just arguing quietly and _without_ him.  He recognized that it was probably a sign of some sort of personality disorder that he was so distraught at not being the center of attention, but really.  He was the captain; he was supposed to be the center of attention.  That sort of personality disorder was mandated for anyone who really wanted to command.

And if the rumors were true… Kirk shook his head to himself.  No.  Those rumors were not true; they were just rumors, common on any spaceship.  At least, any spaceship that was run by humans.  Vulcan spaceships probably didn’t have rumors.   Furthermore, he wouldn’t be bothered if the rumors were true.  Honest.

But the question remained what to do with his friends. 

Kirk’s deliberation was interrupted by Uhura.  “Incoming orders from Starfleet.”

“On screen.”

Admiral Komack appeared on the screen, and Kirk repressed the urge to cringe.  Of all the Admirals, Komack probably had the greatest distaste for Kirk.  Surprisingly, the task he laid out for the captain didn’t seem to be picked solely to annoy, but rather because they were the only ship in the area.  “I’ll be brief.” Komack started, avoiding any formalities.  “The U.S.S. Excalibur is nearly a week overdue for reporting and all attempts to make contact have failed.  I was going to send Decker, but since you’ve finished and are closer, I’m sending you instead.  When we last heard from them, Excalibur was orbiting Andar IX.  Figure out what’s going on and report back.”

“Understood, sir.”  Kirk responded, tightly. 

Komack leaned forward, “And, Captain?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’d better follow my orders, this time.” Komack cut the connection before Kirk could respond.  It was just as well since he wasn’t 100% sure whatever would come out of his mouth next would keep him in his captain’s chair.   The good news was that heading into a completely unknown situation for an undetermined amount of time gave him a legitimate excuse not to answer any requests for leave.

“Uhura, get Spock beamed back up here and inform the Janus miners that we will unfortunately be leaving immediately.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Chekov, plot a course to Andar IX and engage as soon as Spock is on board.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Kirk surveyed his crew with satisfaction.  They were all quick, attentive, hardworking and very good at their jobs.  So good, in fact, that he didn’t feel terribly useful sitting in his captain’s chair.  He decided to head back to his quarters and get caught up on some paperwork.  It would be a few days before they reached Andar IX, and his faithful crew would alert him if anything were amiss.

Riding the turbolift down, Kirk contemplated giving Bones a visit but dismissed the idea.  There were really only two things that he wanted to discuss with Bones and he wouldn’t appreciate either.  The first was his well-being, but Bones really was doing well, seemingly completely recovered from the memory debacle. It had been eleven days since the captain had finally had his friends returned to him, and Kirk hadn’t seen him slip up after that first day.  In fact, aside from his newfound affection for Spock, Bones seemed almost too normal.  Kirk shook his head.  He shouldn’t be cursing small miracles.

Then there was the mysterious leave request, but Bones had been pretty clear about that the last time he brought it up.

_Bones quickly put on his pandering face when Kirk, who was hoping to get more useful answers than Spock had been willing to provide, approached.  “Why do Spock and I want to go to Vulcan?  Did you ask Spock?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What’d he say?”_

_“It was personal.”_

_“Oh.” Bones responded in fake-surprise.  “Well, I guess it’s personal, then. Sorry.”_

_Kirk shifted around so they were facing each other. He grabbed the doctor’s shoulder.  “Come on, Bones!  I’m your friend. ”_

_“And as your friend, I’m asking you to drop it.” Bones broke away from the captain, muttering something about getting no privacy anymore._

So, maybe it was best if he left Bones alone for the time being.  That man could out-cranky anyone on the ship.  He didn’t even need a reason.   Kirk just had to give it a bit more time.  Soon enough, Bones would be back in Kirk’s cabin complaining about how much of a cold, unfeeling, arrogant, know-it-all Spock was (whether he was present or not), and everything would be back to normal.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Kirk entered his quarters and immediately eyeballed the one thing that was out of place.  On top of his carefully (read: precariously) stacked pile of PADDs was an old-fashioned sheet of paper, folded in fourths and perched innocuously.  He flipped it over and around twice before unfolding it, noting that the paper came from his own personal stash that he almost never used.  He frowned.  The only people who would have access to his room, and know the location of his stash were Spock, Bones and his yeoman.

And himself, he corrected upon seeing his own handwriting.  The note read: ‘Keep the Klingons on board. –James T. Kirk.’  That was definitely his signature, but he definitely did not write such a note.   He definitely had no reason to write that message, of all things.  One, there weren’t any Klingons on the ship and two, if there were, he’d want them gone.  Maybe it was a note that had slipped out of something and been placed on top of his things?  Even then, assuming he had a good reason to write it, why would he sign it? 

His comm panel beeped.  “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

“Kirk here.”  He said, slapping the button idly while he stared down at the paper.

Spock’s voice came on, “We are now leaving the solar system.  We should arrive at Andar IX in 5.64 days at warp four.”

“Let’s bring that up to warp six and a half.  I don’t know what kind of trouble Captain Harris is in, but I’d rather not take any more time than necessary.”

“Acknowledged.”

Kirk hesitated a moment, debating whether or not he should tell Spock about the note.  Chances where, it was just something he’d written a while ago and completely forgotten about.  Maybe it was the second page of a letter that he’d forgotten to include.  That would explain his signature but not why he couldn’t remember writing it.  He decided to ask Rand where she’d found it before bringing it up. “Kirk out.”

.o0o.


	3. Chapter 3

.o0o.

Part 3

.o0o.

                Although Uhura generally wasn’t one to gossip herself, not her character, she liked to think she knew every piece of gossip that circled the ship.  And it was quite possibly true that she did.  As head of the Communications Department, she had access to all formal and informal communications both on the ship and to the ship.  When Starfleet wanted to get ahold of Captain Kirk, she was the first to know. When Big Bill Randall got stuck in the Jeffries’ tubes, she knew about it exactly five minutes later.  When Ensign Amanda Fisher got lost in the storage bay (twice) and wanted to keep it quiet, she contacted Uhura directly, since she’d know no matter who was contacted.  When Lieutenant Riley quietly started dating Rand in a match that it seemed the devil himself picked out, Uhura was became aware the very same day.

                It wasn’t just that she heard everything through communications, either.  Uhura was very well liked among the crew and enjoyed socializing.  People felt at ease with her and things seemed to slip their tongues a little more easily than with other people.  Like when Chapel confessed her feelings for Spock (and didn’t she have a fiancé?) and Scotty confessed his feelings for scotch.  She thought both relationships were probably on the unhealthy side, but not altogether dangerous.  People just wanted to talk to her.

                Besides that, Uhura tended to overhear a lot of conversations.  It was a side-effect of her gift for languages.  She was good at distinguishing and establishing order in an otherwise chaotic mass of sounds.  And, to top it off, she had excellent hearing.  So, one way or another, rumors found her.   And Uhura didn’t really mind because she was good at telling which rumors were true and which were not.  From there, it wasn’t hard to know when certain rumors were going to cause problems and when they weren’t.  Like when she discovered the betting pools that were still in their infancy stage, she didn’t bother with them because apparently the captain had made a few wagers himself.  Or when she heard that Scotty had designed and was operating his own still, she pretended she had no idea.  But other rumors seemed more dangerous.  When a yeoman whispered that Erin Thistle had slept with one of her professors at the Academy, Uhura had not hesitated to stomp over and make a fuss.  The yeoman was surprised she’d even heard him, then slightly afraid and awed of her when she threatened to ensure he’d be gone in a week if he ever mentioned anything like that again.  Another time, she picked up on a rumor that Dr. McCoy was racist against Vulcans, so she pointed out that for all their arguments, Spock and McCoy spent more time together than apart.  Which may or may not have spurred other rumors, but they were much less negative.

                Fortunately, the vast majority of the gossip that found its way to Lieutenant Uhura was perfectly harmless.  She’d chuckle to herself at the sounds buzzing in her earpiece and let it go.  Because really, what did it matter whether or not Chekov really had argued that the nerve pinch was actually discovered by Russians and given to Vulcans in a secret treaty?

                Most recently, the issue of Spock and McCoy’s so-called relationship had been buzzing around her ears more than ever.  They were arguing less and spending even more time together than usual. Alone.  In Spock’s cabin, apparently.  She would not, however, give any credit at all to the nut who claimed to have been walking by the doctor’s quarters when she heard shouts of marriage. 

                Uhura had studiously ignored all of this talk for two reasons: Spock and McCoy.  Spock had served under Pike for years before Kirk and had never seemed interested in a relationship with anyone in all that time.  And while she hadn’t heard about what Vulcans thought of homosexuality, she was willing to bet it boiled down to being illogical since they wouldn’t be able to procreate.  And although he’d been under the influence of the spores, he’d seemed more than a little interested in that girl, Leila.  Not to mention, Spock wouldn’t be interested in McCoy in particular since the doctor scoffed at the very foundations of Vulcan society.  McCoy had been married, though he never talked about it, and never struck her as anything other than perfectly straight.  Even if he took a page out of the captain’s book and decided to take the occasional break from an otherwise heterosexual lifestyle, he’d never go for Spock.  To him, emotions were the very core of a relationship, and Spock would be unwilling to acknowledge, let alone admit his feelings.  It was just a silly rumor made by people who didn’t know them well.

                The whole ship rocked slightly, then dropped out of warp.   “Uhura.” Kirk immediately called.  “Get me Scotty.”

                “Bridge to Engineering.”

                There was a pause before, “Engineering.  Scott here.”  He sounded harried and a mighty ruckus was going on behind him.  He turned away from the speaker to shout, “No, not that one!  I said the _secondary_ overload system.”

                “What’s going on?” Kirk demanded, leaning over Uhura’s shoulder instead of transferring it to his chair.  Uhura could understand the urge to get up and move. 

                “Ventilation system blew.  The safety override dropped us out of warp.”

                “Anyone injured?”

                “Yeah.  When it blew, it blew wide.  I’ve got five serious injuries and a couple more minor ones.  Med team is already on their way.” Scotty’s tone was somber, even as he turned to shout a few more orders. 

                “How serious is this?” Kirk demanded.

                “From an engineering standpoint?  Not bad.  I’ve already got the system rerouted and can put you back in warp safely at any time.  The structural damage wasn’t awful either.  A couple days to be back in peak shape, I’d say.”  Anyone listening to the Scottsman would know that although he loved his ship dearly and the ship had gotten off easily, he hadn’t forgotten the human cost.  Engineering tended to earn the most injuries and Scotty was good at managing the pressure, but Uhura could tell this was affecting him.  Something else was up.

                “And not from an engineering standpoint?” Kirk asked, picking up on the same unsaid message Uhura had.

                “The vent was blocked off with a body.  Couldn’t say how it got in there, besides that no one in their right mind would crawl in there of their own volition.  I can only hope that they were dead beforehand because that is a terrible way to go.”

                “Who was it?”

                “Couldn’t say.” Scotty barked another couple orders and turned back.  “It’s not pretty.”

                “Have the body sent up to Sickbay.  They can run an autopsy after the others have been taken care of and hopefully figure out what happened.  Then put us back in warp and get started on those repairs.”

                “Aye, Captain. Scott out.”

                Almost immediately, the comm pinged again.  “Sickbay to Bridge.”

                “What is it, Chapel?”

                “We just got the injured up from Engineering.  Two of them are in critical condition and need immediate operations.  I already called in Dr. M’Benga and he’s in prep, but Dr. McCoy isn’t answering his comm.”  Chapel sounded a little nervous and Uhura could understand why.  McCoy was always prompt when it came to responding to medical emergencies, when he wasn’t spending his off-hours in Sickbay anyway. 

                “Did you try his quarters?”  Uhura jumped in.

                “I did.  No response there, either.”

                “I’ll take care of it.” Kirk responded. “Carry on.”

                Chapel immediately turned off the comm, undoubtedly rushing to help prepare the patients.

                “Computer. Locate Dr. McCoy.”  Kirk requested, still leaning over Uhura’s shoulder before Uhura could do the ship-wide page she normally used in these circumstances. 

                The mechanical voice responded.  “Dr. McCoy is in room 3F-125.” Uhura didn’t instantly recognize the number.  She knew it was one of the cabins in the officers’ quarters.  She glanced down at the screen where the computer had typed its response while it was speaking.  3F-125: Commander Spock. She did a double take.  What would McCoy be doing in Spock’s room in the middle of the night shift?

                She looked up at Kirk, but his face was completely blank.  He nodded at her.  “Bridge to Dr. McCoy.” Normally, she waited at least thirty seconds before trying again, but the captain’s tapping fingers made her anxious.  “Bridge to Dr. McCoy.”

                “McCoy here.” The doctor’s voice was rough and he was panting.  Okay, so maybe she was jumping to conclusions, but her brain seemed to be stuck on one supposition. 

                “Why don’t you have your communicator?”  Kirk’s tone was harsh, accusing.

                McCoy sounded confused, disoriented, even. “M’Benga’s on call.  Why?”

                “Why?” Kirk stretched out the word like a curse.  “Did you miss the explosion in Engineering?”

                “Shit.” McCoy sounded farther away, probably collecting his things.  Strangely, he really did seem to not know what was going on.  Uhura wondered at this.

                Kirk’s voice was tight.  “You’re needed in Sickbay.”

                “On my way.”

                McCoy hadn’t bothered to turn off the comm panel, so Uhura was about to disconnect when Kirk interrupted.  “Spock?”

                “Captain?”  Spock responded quickly, sounding like he’d been standing right there the whole time.  It was as if he were waiting for the captain to talk to him.  He probably had been.   Spock was not, of course, out of breath.

                “I don’t suppose you heard the explosion either.”

                Spock didn’t confirm or deny.  “My apologies, Captain.” 

                “Bridge out.”  Kirk moved back to his seat and sat down heavily.  Uhura realized that the captain hadn’t even known about the changes in McCoy and Spock’s relationship.  This didn’t make her feel better about the one time in her life she could recall being wrong about the veracity of a rumor.  She’d never seen the captain look quite so lost before.

.o0o.


	4. Chapter 4

.o0o.

Part 4

.o0o.

                Having completed his reports in his usual timely fashion, Spock began his meditation.  He hadn’t had much time alone recently because he’d been working with Doctor McCoy at length for the past several days to repair the damage that had been done to his mind.  As a result, he wasn’t getting as much time to meditate and controlling his emotions was becoming more tiring.  It was particularly tiring after spending long hours circling around inside the emotional human’s mind.  Thus, Spock couldn’t help but feel quietly pleased by the completion of his tasks and the opportunity to spend more time meditating. 

Repairing the logical center had been tricky as entire sections were destroyed by the machine.  After Spock figured out how to replicate some of his own reasoning skills to replace those that were missing, the process went smoothly and surprisingly quickly.  In only five days, Spock believed McCoy fit to return to duty, despite his original weeklong ban from the infirmary. Dr. M’Benga confirmed that McCoy was physically fit, and Kirk seemed content that his memories were perfectly in order. 

So, for the following five days, Spock and McCoy worked alpha shift and spent beta shift erecting mental barriers.  Spock found the process slow-going and arduous.  Unlike the issues with Dr. McCoy’s missing functions, Spock could not simply replace them.  McCoy was adamant that everything in his mind remain his own, as much as was possible.  Spock found himself teaching McCoy how to create the protections that his subconscious had originally supplied him with.  It was a challenging duty as the doctor had no point of reference.  Still, McCoy learned and soon his shields were comparable to their former glory.  

Spock was looking forward to returning to their old patterns and McCoy had projected only pleasure at the idea, but when the door chimed in the middle of the night shift, he knew it was the doctor.  He didn’t bother to rise from his position on the floor.  “Come.”

McCoy came fully into the room and let the door slide shut before speaking.  “Figured you were still up.” 

Spock lifted an eyebrow.  Because of the link, the doctor couldn’t not know that Spock was still awake.  Also because of the link, Spock would have a hard time not being aware that McCoy, for all his appearance of being ready to hop on his shift, had just pulled himself out of a nightmare not ten minutes prior.  Spock couldn’t be sure what it had been about since he attempted to maintain as much privacy between them as was possible, but he could tell from the chilling emotions hovering over the doctor that the nightmare had been severe. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting.”

He was, but Spock did not comment.  “Is there something amiss, Doctor?”

McCoy sat on the floor across from Spock and leaned against the wall.   His posture was relaxed but there was tension there, too.  “Jim still hasn’t gotten back to me on the leave request.”

“I spoke with him regarding the topic this morning.”

“Oh yeah?  What’d he say?”

“He wished to know the reasoning behind our departure.  I informed him that it was of a personal nature and, as such, we were not obligated to inform him of the details.  To which he implied that I may be medically unfit for duty, a misassumption that I promptly corrected.  He then offered to allow M’Benga to accompany me instead.  This was, of course, inadequate and I informed him of such.” Spock paused and took in a breath.  He decided he might as well voice his concerns to the doctor as he would have a better understanding of the strange human behavior.   “It is illogical that he should offer Dr. M’Benga’s services while denying yours as I require your assistance in particular while he does not know which of your skill sets would be the most useful.”

McCoy chuckled.  “He’s just mad because he thinks we’re in a relationship.”

“Are we not?” Spock briefly wondered if he’d been clear enough when explaining the linking process and what constituted a marriage on Vulcan.

McCoy seemed a little flustered by this.  “Technically yes, but he’s mad because he thinks we _want_ to be in a relationship together.”

“It was the logical choice.  Should we not correct him?”

“On Earth, we have an old saying: actions speak louder than words.  Us hanging out together will make more of an impact than what we say.”

“Our increased involvement with each other was necessary for your recuperation.”

“Try telling him that.”

“I shall.”  Spock shifted like he was about to stand.

“No!” McCoy straightened.  “Just trust me; he’s going to be pig-headed about this.  If we acknowledge the rumors, then he’ll give them more credit.  And anyway, anyone who knows us wouldn’t believe them any more than the rumors floating around about you and Jim.”

Spock shifted back, both eyebrows going up.  “Humans are most illogical.”

McCoy shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world.  “Of course we are.”

A full minute passed in silence and Spock supposed that McCoy was thinking about how illogical he was.  Regrettably, McCoy would not view this as a negative trait.  “Why have you come here?”

“Because my quarters are really too chilly for a Vulcan who spends his whole day on a ship that’s a fair bit colder than he was evolutionarily designed for.”  Spock recognized it as a joke, but of course he did not smile.  McCoy satisfied himself with a chuckle at his own words.  Spock raised an eyebrow and waited.  There was no claiming that McCoy hadn’t understood the question.  “Look, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful since you did save my life and all, but this lack of privacy is just terrible.  I don’t feel like I can block you out and stop you from seeing anything and everything I think. I’m never alone.  I can’t have any secrets…”

“I assure you, Doctor, I have no intention of prying into your affairs.”

“That’s just it.   You don’t have to have any intention.  I – what’s it called? – project. And I hear your projections.  Especially when I’m tired.  I want to be able to stop people from climbing into my head.” McCoy turned away slightly, not willing to meet Spock’s eyes.  “You can teach me to do that, right?”

“I believe I may be of some assistance in this area.  It may be best if we allow ourselves a few days to rest.”

“No!”  Spock wondered if McCoy’s complaints were derived from the unsettling dream.  Even without looking, he could imagine the details of such a nightmare.  However, Spock did not comment on this as he had promised to refrain from asking any questions. “I mean, if you’re really tired, yeah.  I just… I would prefer to get started right away.”

Spock found himself nodding without conscious thought.  “Very well. I must warn you that what you have requested is a much more difficult and time-consuming endeavor than the ones we have previously completed.  On Vulcan, children typically begin to learn the basics of projecting and defending when they initiate schooling and continue to train these skills for six to ten years.  However, given your previous success of removing myself from your mind, we may be able to achieve similar results in a much shorter time.”

 “All right.  So how does this work?” McCoy asked as he scooted himself closer, folding himself cross-legged in front of the Vulcan in the same position they had used for the other training sessions.

“I intend to initiate a shallow meld.  You shall attempt to dislodge me.”

McCoy blinked.  “That’s your instruction?  How do I ‘dislodge’ you?”

Spock’s face was neutral as he tried to explain.   Without the understanding that was innate in telepaths, the doctor had no point of reference.  It was similar to explaining quantum mechanics to a person with no knowledge of mathematics.  “Thus far, we have primarily utilized the method of visualization to view your mind in a manner that is understandable.  This allows you to ‘will’ things to happen, which your subconscious then translates into the necessary process to make actual changes.  Success in our new task will require that you make conscious changes, which can only be accomplished if you can see your mind as it truly is. This is not something I am able to show you.  Furthermore, proper defense will necessitate a… force within yourself that I cannot identify or explain.  Every person has a force that is unique.  Only you can understand your own.”

“Isn’t the path to self-discovery usually done by yourself?”

“If you were a Vulcan, I would encourage that.  As you are from a race with negligible telepathic prowess, it would be illogical to assume it is even possible for you to accomplish this task on your own.   In these circumstances, the most logical place to begin would be to replicate your expulsion of my mind as you were able to accomplish shortly before we were beamed up from Bloringdia.”

McCoy frowned.  “I don’t even remember doing that.”

“Perhaps not, but we know you are capable of it.  We shall begin there.” Without further delay, Spock splayed his hand along the doctor’s face, finding the meld points with practiced ease.  ‘Do not visualize.’ Spock instructed as McCoy instantly attempted to hold onto the familiar. ‘Concentrate on finding me.’

Spock allowed himself to float on the twisting waves of the doctor’s mind, keeping his touch light and passive.  He couldn’t be sure what McCoy was experiencing, but he could admit to himself that the flow of his mind was unexpectedly peaceful. 

After nearly twenty minutes, Spock could feel McCoy growing more agitated and confused.  Finally, he called out internally, ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing.  I could really use a few pointers.’

‘Doctor, you are not supposed to be seeing anything.  You are not in the physical world and thus, you cannot use your senses to perceive as you normally would.  You must feel things beyond your senses.’  Spock pulled himself a bit closer to McCoy.  ‘Perhaps it may be easier if you do not attempt to take it all in at once.  Concentrate on my presence in your mind.  When you feel me, what exactly do you feel? Beyond your emotions and your senses, what is there? It is that essence that you are looking for.’

McCoy didn’t respond, but he could tell that something in his explanation had indeed made things easier for the doctor.  Soon, their minds met.  McCoy gasped audibly and pulled back, so Spock dropped from the meld and waited.  “Sorry.  I guess I wasn’t expecting that.”  He breathed heavily for a few minutes, head turned away.

“It is a very different way of perceiving others.” Spock conceded.  “Are you prepared to continue?”

“Yeah. Just uh… what am I supposed to do when I find you again?”

“You must extricate me.”

“That won’t… hurt you, will it?”

“Negative.”

“I don’t suppose you could give me something a little more to go on?”

Spock brought his hand back up, “Concentrate.”

McCoy snorted, but closed his eyes, falling back into the meld.  Spock noted that the doctor had a much easier time of finding him.  Spock knew that McCoy was attempting to dislodge him with a certain kind of relish that Spock was disinclined to investigate.  Still, McCoy grew frustrated before he was able to make any progress.  ‘This would be so much easier if you would just tell me how to do this.’

‘I cannot.  Each person’s mind works differently.’

McCoy’s annoyance grew, then quickly dissipated.  Spock recognized the shift into his scientist persona that Spock frequently worked with.  ‘Fine.  Clearly, I am capable of doing this.  So what’s different between now and the last time?’

‘We are not under water.’

‘Not funny.’ Spock had not been making a joke. ‘What else?’

‘There are a number of variables that may not have been adequately replicated.  I believe the primary differences include our level of physical and mental exhaustion, the depth of my presence in your mind, and your emotional state.’ 

‘If it were similar, then maybe I can see what I did the first time around.’ McCoy argued firmly. ‘Do you think you could go a little deeper?’

‘I can. I can also evoke feelings of panic, if you wish.’

‘Do it.’

Spock slipped further into the doctor’s mind as he worked out the issue of forcing the man to panic.  Panic was a problematic feeling to work with.  It could spur on a reaction that might otherwise be impossible or it could blind a person and keep them from acting.  He dared not spark too much panic; McCoy _had_ passed out that time.  He stoked the flames a bit until he heard McCoy’s breathing pick up. 

McCoy located him with relative ease this time, and Spock immediately felt a tingling sensation and a pressure working against him.  It wasn’t much, but it was there.  ‘I think I know what I did last time.’ McCoy commented, pleasure and excitement pushing away the panic.

‘Concentrate.’ Spock reminded him before the pressure could dissipate.  He encouraged the panic to rise a bit, choking McCoy’s pleasure.

The minutes stretched by as McCoy tried to push him back.  The slight tingling had grown to the force of a strong wind.  Spock doubted that McCoy would have the experience or strength to push him entirely out any time soon, but he clearly had a basic understanding and that was something Spock could work with.  

Suddenly, the intercom burst to life and Spock broke the meld, belatedly realizing that Uhura was calling for McCoy and not himself.  The doctor didn’t seem to know what had happened as he sat panting from the exertion and the panic.  Spock regretted pushing him quite as hard on the first try.  Mental exercises such as these could be trying.  He laid a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, encouraging him to stand. 

“Bridge to Doctor McCoy.”

Spock could tell that McCoy was feeling out of sorts, so he hovered over the doctor’s shoulder as he answered the comm.  “McCoy here.”

Unexpectedly, Kirk broke in, “Why don’t you have your communicator?” Spock was unsure of the cause of the hostility in his captain’s voice.  The man was usually patient, and particularly so with Dr. McCoy.  And while McCoy tended to bring his communicator around for emergencies more often than not, he was only required to do so when he was on call.

“M’Benga’s on call.” McCoy responded slowly.  “Why?”

“Why?” Kirk mimicked.  “Did you miss the explosion in Engineering?”

McCoy looked up sharply at Spock, turning away from the comm.  He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.  ‘There was an explosion?’

‘I was unaware.’ Spock replied.  He tended to lose track of his surroundings whenever he went into a meld and this one had been deep. 

McCoy seemed to regain himself quickly at the thought of being needed for an emergency.  “Shit.”  He mumbled.  Ironically, the emergency was wiping away his sense of panic. 

“You’re needed in Sickbay.” Kirk informed him, rather unnecessarily.  McCoy looked over at Spock in an odd moment of insecurity.  He looked like he might ask if he was up for this but didn’t.

“On my way.” McCoy set off at a brisk pace, leaving Spock to face the inexplicably angry captain.  As expected, Kirk addressed him.

“Spock?”

“Captain?”

“I don’t suppose you heard the explosion either.” Kirk deadpanned.  It was hard to believe that the man with the best hearing on the ship missed the sound of an explosion that carried all the way to the bridge.  He also couldn’t explain why he hadn’t heard without upsetting the doctor.

                “My apologies, Captain.” 

                “Bridge out.” Humans were most illogical.

                The captain was angry and Spock wasn’t sure why, so he decided to go up to the bridge and observe him for possible causes.  As his second in command, it was Spock’s responsibility to ensure that he was fit for duty, and as his friend, Spock thought he ought to check in on him.  He had, after all, spent very little time with the captain outside of work lately. 

                Spock arrived on the bridge a few minutes later, but Kirk didn’t seem interested in talking with him.   Spock sat down at his station and looked over the latest changes while discretely watching the captain for odd behavior.  Over the next three hours, he familiarized himself with the situation in engineering and monitored the bridge crew.  Uhura was passing looks his way, so he postulated that whatever change had taken place had something to do with him. 

Kirk was throwing himself whole-heartedly into his work.  He’d already checked to see if anyone hadn’t reported in for work so that he could possibly get a lead on the death.  After that, he dived straight into his routine work, studiously ignoring the Vulcan.  Spock resolved to convince the doctor that they could no longer keep their situation from the captain. 

Dr. McCoy appeared on the bridge exactly three hours and thirteen minutes after hurrying from Spock’s room.  He looked a bit worse for wear, but Spock could tell he hadn’t lost anyone. 

“Jim.” He greeted, coming to stand beside the captain’s chair.

“Doctor.”  Kirk replied with a formality that drew more attention than the doctor’s appearance itself.

McCoy faltered briefly, but recovered, straightening his back.  “We got eight people from engineering, mostly with burns and shrapnel wounds.  We had to operate on a couple of them but it looks like everyone is going to be fine.  I’m a bit concerned about Martinez, though, since one of the flying bits of metal cut a major artery in her leg.  She may not regain full mobility.  I’ll have the details in my report.”

“Good.” Kirk said tersely.  “What about the body?”

“Malcolm Brigley.  Security.  Died of a heart attack twelve hours ago.”

“Are you saying this wasn’t foul play?”

“Someone had to have put the body in the ventilation system.  He was dead hours before his body was burned.”

“Thank god for small mercies.”  Kirk muttered.  “Anything else?”

“Brigley was only 23.  He had no business dying of a heart attack.  His tox screen came back negative, though, so it wasn’t drug induced.  I’m not sure what else to look for.”

“All right.  Let me know if you find anything else.”

“Of course.” McCoy waited a beat and dropped his voice.  “Jim, I wanted to talk to you about earlier.  It’s not-”

Kirk cut him off.  “Now’s not really the time. We’ve now got two mysteries on our hands.  I only hope the one about the Excalibur isn’t as fatal.”  Spock caught McCoy’s eyes briefly, watching the doctor shrug.  The doctor clearly thought he knew the reason behind Kirk’s odd, angry behavior.  “How much longer until we reach Andar IX?” Kirk asked the bridge at large.

“Twenty-six point four three hours.” To everyone’s surprise, it was McCoy who answered the question.  He promptly coughed and mumbled something about needing to write reports before escaping into the turbolift. Perhaps the doctor would need no convincing that the link could not remain secret.

Kirk turned slowly to Spock who was having illogical regrets about not retreating himself.  “How long?”

Spock hesitated.  “The doctor was surprisingly accurate in his estimation.”

“How long?” Kirk repeated.

“Twenty-six point four three hours.” Spock suddenly found his console fascinating. 

.o0o.


	5. Chapter 5

.o0o.

Part 5

.o0o.

                Spock decided that things were quite possibly worse than he had originally perceived when the captain didn’t even comment on McCoy’s strange behavior.  However, there was little he could do without the doctor.  Even if he were to address the situation, the bridge was not the proper place.  Kirk was sitting in his chair silently, reading over a PADD.  Spock realized he was playing a game of three-way chess; the rules had changed, and he was no longer sure what they were. 

                Shortly before the night shift ended and Kirk left to get some sleep (presumably, it was always hard to tell with the captain), he sent a message to Spock’s station detailing his plan of action.  While it made logical sense to keep his plans under wraps, and Spock was oddly gratified that Kirk was putting him in charge, the instructions struck him as odd because Kirk was handing the investigation over the Spock without complaint.  The captain generally wanted to spearhead anything of the sort and ignored any regulations that would dare to suggest he do otherwise.     

                It would also enable Kirk to avoid him while he personally attended to notifying the next of kin and creating a memorial service. 

                Spock met with Dr. McCoy and Scotty in the briefing room twenty minutes later.  “Gentlemen.  I will be leading an investigation into the death of Malcolm Brigley.  Any pertinent information that you have regarding this topic would be welcome. Doctor?”

                “Well, I put his death at approximately 15:00 hours yesterday.  Cause of death: heart attack.  But I’d wager it wasn’t natural.  That boy was fit as a fiddle last time he came in for his physical, and he’s got no medical history of heart problems.  No detectable toxins in his bloodstream to indicate poison, but that doesn’t completely eliminate the possibility.  There are some that would have burnt up in the explosion and a couple others which wouldn’t be traceable after death.”

                “Aye, and the body couldn’t have just appeared in the ventilation system.” Scotty added, unwittingly echoing the doctor’s words from earlier.

                “Mr. Scott, what are your thoughts on the possible purpose of placing the body there?”

                “Well,” Scotty scratched his chin, “If it’d been a bit further down the line, it would have affected the warp core and likely blown the whole ship.  And if it’d been positioned a bit differently, it would have disintegrated the body.  My guess is that they were trying to hide the evidence.”  Scotty seemed to be warming up to this idea.  “Not a bad way to do it, either.  You teleport it off the ship and you run the risk of someone detecting it.  You burn it and all the evidence is gone.  The line they used removes the superheated gas build up from the warp drive, but it’s enough out of the way that you could get to it without any witnesses for a while, if you time it right.  We only had so many people down there last night because someone caught the overload before it happened.  Could have been a lot worse.

                “But that wouldn’t really narrow it down.” Scotty continued, “Since we’ve got warning signs all over the place.  Virtually anyone walking in there could figure that out.”

                Spock nodded.  Their assessment of the situation seemed accurate.  He had come to similar conclusions himself.  “How long would it have taken for the buildup to cause the explosion?”

“’Bout two hours or so, I’d say.”

“I will need to speak with everyone who was there at the time of the explosion and the three hours preceding to determine if anyone observed anything that may assist us.”

“Aye, sir.” Scotty agreed easily.  “I’ll arrange it.”

Scotty moved to leave, but Spock stayed him with a hand.  “Were you personally acquainted with Mr. Brigley?”

“Aye, I knew him, though not as well as I’d have liked to. He was often posted down by Engineering. He spent more time with other security.  You might try talking to Yjinkal and Hyunh; they were always together.”

                “I appreciate your assistance.”  Scotty nodded and headed out.

                Spock was left with McCoy, who seemed to be a doing a good job of looking everywhere but at Spock.  Finally, McCoy broke the silence.  “Sorry.  About earlier.”

                “It was understandable.  Being both physically and mentally tired, it will sometimes be difficult to differentiate your own thoughts from mine when I project them.” Spock considered the blame to largely fall on his own shoulders because he had pushed McCoy in their training session and then not monitored his own projections carefully enough.  Still, a tiny part of him reveled that the doctor was now experiencing first hand some of the difficulties Spock faced.  “I believe you should speak with the captain.”

                “Tried.” McCoy sighed. Spock could feel his guilt and embarrassment.   “He blew me off.”

                “What would be your psychological profile of the murderer?”

                “Uh,” McCoy mumbled, startled by the sudden change of direction. “What they did was pretty gruesome.  Definitely thought out beforehand to get the right timing.  This wasn’t just a spur of the moment killing, which means that Brigley was picked specifically, though I couldn’t tell you why.  The killer would have had to get him alone, so they probably knew each other.   All of which points in the direction of a sociopath, someone with enough emotional detachment to kill a friend.  We, of course, don’t have any red flags for that aboard the ship, but I can look through the profiles of Brigley’s friends and see what comes up.”

                Spock nodded.  “Very well.  Take a few hours to rest, first.” It was somewhere between a command and a suggestion, the sort of comment that the doctor might actually listen to.  He made a face as he stood. 

                “I’d tell you to do the same, but I’m not in the mood to listen to how Vulcans don’t require as much sleep as us feeble humans do.” And then the doctor was out the door.  Spock was suddenly struck by how much affection laced the doctor’s words.  He thought it ironic that one who claimed to love his emotions so thoroughly spoke and acted directly opposite of his genuine feelings on a regular basis. Spock shook his head.  He had a great deal of work to do. 

                When Spock met with McCoy again fourteen hours later, he’d spoken to twenty-three individuals, including Scotty’s suggestions of Yjinkal and Hyunh and had very little to show for it.  No one had seen anything strange in Engineering, though most of them admitted to being more than a little preoccupied by their work.  Everyone seemed to be of the belief that Brigley was well liked and had no enemies.  He’d had Alpha shift the morning before and no one had seen him since. 

                Although it was becoming increasingly clear to Spock that humans had a tendency to exaggerate the positive qualities in a person after their death, Brigley still appeared to him as a sincerely kind and respected individual. He had a long history in volunteer work, primarily concerning animal welfare, and everyone Spock interviewed had a story concerning Brigley going out of his way to help them.  He did like to play poker, but he never seemed to win, and while he had a nasty habit of showing up late on Thursdays, he brought little gifts to make up for it.  Much to Spock’s consternation, there appeared to be no motive for his murder. 

                “So, I looked through the profiles of everyone you interviewed today,” McCoy said without preamble, seating himself beside Spock in the briefing room.  “And, I gotta tell you, I’ve got nothing.  Nothing that could correlate to murder, anyway.  If I had to pick one of them, I’d go with Cory Schneider, though.  He’s gotten into some bar fights and broke a guy’s nose once.  Outside of that, no violence, except for a couple threats which got him reprimanded.”  McCoy shrugged.  “It’s not much, but it might be worth a second look.”

                “My endeavors thus far have been fruitless.  I believe this will be helpful.”

                “Well, then, you’ll really appreciate what else I’ve found for you.”

                Spock raised an eyebrow.  “Indeed?”

                “I found Brigley’s girlfriend. Nurse Sagumpta.”

                Another eyebrow joined the first.  “I was told he did not have a girlfriend.”

                “It’s an on-again-off-again thing.”  Fortunately, the good doctor was projecting again, so Spock did not need to ask for a translation of the obscure and coded terminology.  “As of yesterday morning, it was on-again.”

                “I see.  How did you determine this?”

                “I gave her a hard time because she was late for her shift.  Then Chapel gave me a hard time.  So, I gave her the day off and asked her to come talk to you.” McCoy’s glance caught the door.  “Speak of the devil.  I’d better get going.”

                Spock stood and turned to the young, petite nurse.  McCoy patted her on the shoulder in his casual, yet sympathetic manner and left them alone.  Spock had never been formally introduced to her before, but he’d seen Sagumpta in Sickbay on several of his numerous visits.  “Please have a seat.”  Spock waited until they were both seated across from each other.  “I’m sorry for your loss.” He said gently, the human way.

                The nurse seemed surprised by his gesture.  Mostly, she seemed very, very sad.  Her eyes were rimmed in red and her breathing was irregular.  “Thank you.”

                “I intend to ask you some questions in order to better understand what transpired yesterday.” Spock stated diplomatically.  “Were you romantically involved with Malcolm Brigley?”

                Sagumpta sniffled.  “Yes.  We were dating for four years, since before either of us came to the Enterprise.  I’ve never been all that good at commitment, so I kept breaking it off with him, but I’d always find my way back.” Her voice was choked as she whispered, “We were going to get married.”

                Spock gave the distraught woman a minute to compose herself.  “Have you two had any major disagreements lately?”

                “What?  Well, I suppose all couples do.  Recently?  Not really.  He said he saw me, and I walked right by without saying hello.  Silly things like that.”

                “I see.”  Spock responded gravely, keeping his hands clasped in front of him.   “Did you observe any disputes he may have had with others?” 

                “There wasn’t really anyone he didn’t get along with.”  Sagumpta responded, “The closest I can think of was a couple weeks ago, I saw Cory push him out of his room and tell him to mind his own business.  But Cory doesn’t really get along well with others.” 

                “Cory Schneider?”

                “Yes, that’s him.”

                “When was the last time you saw Mr. Brigley?”

                “Yesterday morning.  We had breakfast together in the commissary.”

                “Attention all personnel.”  The comm panel came to life, Uhura’s sweet voice filling the room with her sad message, “Malcolm Brigley’s memorial service will begin momentarily.”

                Sagumpta rose without any thoughts to protocol and made for the door.  She turned belatedly.  “Can we do this later?”

                Spock rose as well.  “I believe I have sufficient information for the time being.  I will call upon you if I have more questions.”  Sagumpta looked relieved and nodded. 

                “Please.  I want to find out what happened to him.”

                Spock made his way down to Schneider’s quarters and buzzed for entrance.  The man he recognized from an earlier interview slid out of the door, meeting Spock in the hallway.  “Can I help you?”  He asked hesitantly.  Schneider was out of uniform, Spock noted clinically, and looked ruffled, his hair sticking up at odd angles.

                “I have a few follow-up questions.”  Spock informed him, not waiting for a response.  “You were seen involved in an altercation with Mr. Brigley.”

                “You mean when he came here?  It wasn’t an altercation… we had a disagreement.  I asked him to leave.”

                “Did you lay hands on him?” Spock asked, unflustered by Schneider’s indignant barks. 

                “I didn’t hit him, if that’s what you mean.”  Schneider folded his hands over his chest, fists clenching. 

                 “Over what topic did you have your disagreement?”

                “It’s personal.” Schneider glared, his tone clipped.  Spock recognized the irony of this line being used on him after he’d rebuffed the captain with it several times.  It was not particularly informative.  “Is that all?  Because I’ve got better things to do.”

                “No.” Schneider stopped mid turn.  “Where were you yesterday afternoon at 15:00 hours?”

                Spock noted that Schneider did not meet his gaze.  Fascinating.  “In my room.”

                “Can anyone confirm that?”

                “No.  I was alone.” Schneider had turned to look him in the eye, but Spock caught the tapping of his foot.  A nervous gesture, he supposed. 

                Spock straightened and folded his hands behind his back.  He generally respected privacy greatly, but something about Schneider made him disinclined to trust the man.  He was concerned that if a drug was used to create a heart attack, Schneider would get rid of any remaining evidence immediately.  “Given your dispute with Brigley and his subsequent death, I will be searching your quarters at this time.”

                Schneider sucked in a breath and shifted so he was in Spock’s way.  “You can’t.”  He said decisively.

                Spock raised an eyebrow.  “According to regulations, a commanding officer can search your room with no notification at any time if they have probable cause.”  Spock moved to enter, but Schneider threw a fist at his face.  Spock took a step back and twisted, grabbing hold of Schneider’s arm and using his own momentum to force him to the ground. Schneider looked up, stricken.  “That was unwise.  Do you intend to continue this?”  Schneider mutely shook his head, eyes wide.  “Then you will accompany me to the brig.”

.o0o.


	6. Chapter 6

.o0o.

Part 6

.o0o.

                As McCoy materialized on the empty bridge of the U.S.S. Excalibur with the rest of the landing party, he briefly wondered if his inclusion on this excursion was a result of Kirk extending him an olive branch of friendship or whether he was just including him to spitefully make him use the blasted teleporter.  McCoy decided that it really could be both at the same time.  His captain was good like that. Penalty and forgiveness all wrapped in one confusing package.

                McCoy sighed, feeling unreasonably morose.  He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend in this mess with Spock.   All he wanted was to be able to pretend it never happened, and he couldn’t do that if Kirk knew.  McCoy was pretty sure that Spock would never bring it up again, especially since it would be a source of embarrassment for him, too, emotionless Vulcan or not.  Kirk would playfully tease, trying to make light of the situation, but he would never forget.  And McCoy frantically wanted to forget about the link. 

                “I wonder why there’s music playing.”  Uhura mumbled, smiling broadly to herself as she moved over to the communications station as if it were her own.  She lovingly brought up past communications and began to skim through them.  “It’s kind of nice.  Soothing, really.” 

                McCoy had to agree.  The sound was soothing.  Still, he felt deeper in depression, thinking only of how he’d hurt his friend.  “I prefer piano, personally.”  If he were brutally honest with himself, beyond the whole pretending the link never happened thing, he’d been ashamed of his vulnerability and frightened by his lack of privacy.  He’d always been a very private individual and, intentionally or not, Spock was ripping down all of his barriers and protection.  His whole world was being torn asunder and he desperately wanted the captain to be untouched by it all.  He wanted Kirk to be the refuge against the damning circumstances.  Kirk alone could stand against the terror and the sheer unreality of what his life had become.  Though, he’d rather eat shards of glass than admit it to him.

                Kirk came up to stand beside the doctor, towering over Uhura in a way that McCoy would have guessed was meant to intimidate, if he didn’t know any better. Uhura grinned back at the captain, even as Kirk frowned at her.  “Bring up the last log entry.”

                “Yes, sir.” She said, humming to herself as she pressed some buttons. 

                Captain Harris appeared on the viewscreen, biting his nails and occasionally looking over his shoulder.  His tone was guarded, his words whispered.  McCoy had never met the man before, but he’d hazard a guess that he was having a severe attack of paranoia.  It just figured Starfleet would put a man like that in charge of the lives of four hundred people.  They didn’t seem to care enough about the toy soldiers they sent off to play in space.

                “They came up on the first shuttle, I’m sure of it.  They’re all over the ship now.” Harris said quietly, “Three-quarters of the crew are missing and the rest have simply gone crazy.  Dr. Hinchi asked me to put on some music.  Says it should calm people down.” Harris looked around himself suspiciously. “I think she may be trying to send subliminal messages.” An ensign stomped across the screen and Harris eyed him distrustfully.  “Hinchi thinks I should contact Starfleet.  Doesn’t she know that they’re the ones who sent us here? They’re in on it.”  Harris froze and turned to stare behind him. “They’re coming for me,” could barely be made out as he slammed the machine off.

                Chekov muttered something in Russian from his position by the ship’s helm where he was checking for anomalies. What was that kid doing anyway?  It looked like he was positively preening himself.  “Confirmed.  No life-signs aboard.  None detected on the surface.”

                McCoy’s attention was captured by Kirk again as he slapped a hand on his shoulder.  McCoy just felt more glum because here his friend was going out of his way to be kind and normal around him after McCoy had treated him so badly.  He ducked his head and listened as Kirk ordered for an earlier log entry to be played.  The smiling Uhura didn’t get a chance to comply before everyone’s attention was directed to the two security officers they’d brought along.

                “Just leave me alone, would you?” Chevalier protested some mistreatment, leaning back from the other man.  He looked frightened.

Hyunh turned on him with angry words.  “Or what?  You’ll kill me like your buddy killed Malcolm?”

“He didn’t do it!” The first man squeaked.

“So they just put him in the brig for the hell of it?” Hyunh growled.  “Malcolm was my friend.” And suddenly, he nailed Chevalier in the jaw with a well-aimed punch.  He even got in a second one before Spock was suddenly holding him back.  Scotty grabbed Chevalier. 

Kirk, strangely, kept away from the fighting, shouting orders into his communicator from the other side of the bridge.  “Security to the transporter room.  Beam back Chevalier and Hyunh and confine them to quarters.”

“Aye, Captain.”

After the two men disappeared, Spock folded his arms serenely behind his back.  “Captain, I believe something aboard this ship is causing us to behave abnormally.”

Kirk nodded, almost absently.  “Let’s not stay here longer than necessary, then.  Take Scotty down to Engineering and have it checked out. Report back here when you’re finished.” Scotty smiled dopily while Spock nodded sharply.  They left the bridge efficiently.  At least Spock wasn’t acting strange, McCoy thought.

“I should get down to medical, see if their logs can explain this.”  McCoy announced, feeling useless.  He wondered if there’d been any casualties.  They might not get anyone they’d lost back, came the dark thought.  “Hinchi seemed to have things more under control, if the music is anything to go by.”

“No.” Kirk denied, shortly and without explanation.  Then the hand on McCoy’s shoulder felt like an oppressive force.  “Play back the second to last log,” Kirk ordered Uhura again.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”  She responded chirpily.   McCoy shifted towards the back of the bridge to get a better view.  Kirk followed him. 

Captain Harris appeared on the viewscreen again, looking less perturbed, but still distinctly unwell.  “No sign of the missing crewmen as of yet.  The atmosphere of the planet makes it impossible to read life signs, but I’ve got a couple shuttles doing a visual check.  It’s a shot in the dark.  Worse since we have a whole damn planet to search.  It’s more like finding a needle in a haystack while wearing gauntlets.  In the dark.”  Harris looked over his shoulder.  “We’ve mostly lost people in the lower decks so far, but the aliens seem to be working their way upwards.  Don’t know how to get rid of them.  They can’t be seen unless they’re attacking, and even then, phasers don’t have any effect.  Feigon’s been working on a way to detect them, but it’s all happening so quickly. One minute, you’re fine, the next minute, you’re acting like a nut job and then you’re just gone.  Hinchi seems to think the aliens are amplifying existing emotions.  Says it’s a power source or something.  If we stay calm, it should keep them weak.  It’s just conjecture, but I’ll take anything at this point.  Not sure how much longer we’ll last.”

Kirk didn’t immediately respond as the screen went blank.   McCoy wondered if it was the aliens that were making him feel so miserable.  Uhura was atypically behaving as if she were blissfully unaware of higher thought while Chekov was decorating the station in front of him with a Russian flag.  Did he carry those things around with him?  Kirk was rooted to the spot.   “We should get Spock and Scotty and go.”  McCoy suggested when Kirk didn’t speak.

Suddenly, the captain was on him, pinning McCoy against the back wall with a force that reminded the doctor that Kirk was actually quite a bit stronger than him.  McCoy figured he was about to get socked in the jaw like Chevalier had.  He also figured he deserved it.  

But Kirk didn’t hit him.  Instead, he pressed his lips to the doctor’s in a rough kiss that was over before he was entirely aware it was happening.  Kirk didn’t back off, though, keeping his body flush against the doctor’s as he held him against the wall.  “Why?  Why Spock and not me?” He growled. 

Uhura and Chekov appeared to have regained some of their senses and were hurrying over, but McCoy freed a hand and waved them off.  The captain wasn’t himself, and he didn’t want to see anyone getting hurt unnecessarily.  Slowly, cautiously, he went for the medkit at his hip, while calling out for Spock in his mind.   “Jim.”  He started pacifyingly, “There isn’t anything going on between me and Spock.”

“Like hell.”  Kirk’s grip on his shoulders was approaching painful; it would definitely leave bruises.  “I heard you in his room.”

“You’re my best friend.  You know I’m not into guys, not you and not Spock.”  McCoy worked out a syringe, thankfully already loaded with a light sedative.  He let the bag fall to the ground and slowly moved to inject it.

 Kirk caught his actions and grabbed his wrist. “I want the truth, Bones.  All of it. What is going on between you two?”

McCoy glanced over at their audience, berating himself for not doing this earlier, when he could have done it in private.  When it wouldn’t have hurt Kirk as much.  He felt like a terrible friend. “In order to protect me from that memory eating thing on Bloringdia, Spock had to link our minds.  That’s why we wanted to go to Vulcan: so we could get the link severed.  And that’s why we’ve been spending so much time together.”

The turbolift doors opened and Spock appeared, Scotty hot on his heels. McCoy used the distraction to inject Kirk with the sedative who slumped against him. Spock didn’t move to pull off the captain, though.  Instead, he jumped between Kirk and a glowing amorphous mass that had suddenly appeared.  The creature latched onto Spock and vanished instantly. 

Sometime while in Engineering, Scotty had morphed into a spacey, high-on-life individual and he didn’t appear particularly concerned that Spock had just disappeared, so McCoy took control of the situation because he was concerned, miserably concerned.  “Uhura, contact the Enterprise.  Have them beam us over immediately and get them to check for any abnormal energy signals in the process.  Scotty, give me a hand, would you?” While Uhura conveyed the message in sunny tones, Scotty came around, and between the two of them, they managed to keep Kirk on his feet, though he was more than half asleep, even with the low dosage.  “And so help me,” McCoy grumbled as he felt the tingling sensation of the transporter overtake him, “If anyone breathes a word about what just happened, they’ll be on weekly physicals for the next two years.”

Stepping off the transporter pad in the Enterprise was like waking up to someone pouring ice water on your face.  He hadn’t realized how far along he’d been in his state of depression until the feeling was miraculously lifted.  Everyone looked more than a little embarrassed, except for Kirk who wasn’t even raising his head.  Doctor mode took over and McCoy hurried Kirk out the door, shouting for the others to wait until they’ve been checked out before returning to duty.   Uhura and Chekov followed them to Sickbay.

Ten minutes later, he’d given them each a thorough scan, and since nothing seemed amiss, he prepared to let them return to their duties.  “And how is everyone feeling?”

“Like a right fool.”  Scotty said immediately.  “But I think I’ll live.  Spock and I figured out how Feigon was trying to detect the aliens.  I’m going to try and replicate it, then give the whole ship a scan.  I’d hate to have those nasty buggers on our ship.”  He nodded and left.

“Chekov?” McCoy prompted.

“My pride is back to where it belongs.” He said, avoiding the doctor’s gaze.  “I’d better go report in to Sulu.”

Finally, it was just Uhura and McCoy waiting beside Kirk’s bed.  Her somber expression told him that she was back to her normal, concerned self.  “And what about you?” Her eyes dropped to Kirk’s form briefly so there was no question about what she was really asking.

“Right as rain.”  McCoy responded, “He was under the influence of those aliens, same as the rest of us.  Besides, who in their right mind would complain about having one laid on them by James T. Kirk?”

Uhura laughed lightly, appeased that he was able to make a joke, but she quickly grew serious again.  “And what about Spock?”

McCoy wasn’t sure if she was asking about the link between them or his disappearance, but he supposed it didn’t really matter.  The answer was the same.  “It’ll work out.” He hoped.

Uhura nodded, probably reading between the lines.  “If you need someone to talk to…”

“I’ll know exactly where to find you.”  McCoy promised.  “Don’t ever change.”

“Why mess with perfection?” Uhura gave him a flirtatious smile and left the room.  McCoy had the oddest feeling that she’d gotten more out of that conversation than he’d intended to give, but he was damned if he knew what it was. 

Now that his head was clear, he concluded that he was worried about Spock.  He knew that Spock was still alive, but the link was dimmed even more than when Spock slept.  Did that mean he was gravely injured?  Was he dying? Was he in a coma? Would McCoy even be able to tell if he were? 

“Well, this is a nice change.”  McCoy said, leaning against another bed as he watched Kirk’s unmoving face.  “Usually, you try to escape the second you come out of it, but that counteractive I gave you should have kicked in at least two minutes ago. I could get used to this.”

Kirk sighed and opened his eyes.  He didn’t move, otherwise.  “Trying to figure out what I need to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything; that wasn’t you.”

Kirk ignored his protests.  “You remember the last time?”

McCoy contemplated whether it was worth it to feign ignorance or not.  No one was around though, so it’d be nothing but cowardice.   “We were really drunk.”

“You were really drunk.”  Kirk corrected, sitting up and facing the doctor.  “I was mostly sober.  And interested.”

McCoy cut him off, “We don’t have to talk about this.  One drunken kiss and one might-as-well-have-been-drunken kiss don’t have to interfere with our friendship.  It’s fine.  We barely knew each other back then and you were under the influence this time.”

“No, we really do need to talk about this because I know how you think.  Sooner or later, you’re going to put two and two together and get five, and we don’t need any more misunderstandings between us.” McCoy was cowed because the last one had been a doozy and his own fault.  He signaled that he was listening.  Kirk was going to do what he should have done himself, talk it out and trust him to understand. 

Kirk continued.  “I’m sure you didn’t miss the part about the aliens amplifying emotions we were already feeling.  I was angry and jealous and hurt.  Still am, to tell you the truth.  But it wasn’t because of the relationship I thought you were having with Spock.  It was because I felt like you were replacing me as your go-to man every time you have a problem.  You were replacing our friendship for a relationship you told me you weren’t interested in.”

“So that was an anger-kiss?” McCoy clarified.

“Pretty much.  Look, there wasn’t a whole lot of rationality going on at the time, you know?”  Kirk shook his head. “I guess it’s because that night was on my mind so much recently.  Not because I wish we’d ever been more than friends, because really, that would never have worked between us, but because I thought you’d lied to me.”

Kirk shrugged and jumped off the bed.  His end of the heart-to-heart was over.  Any other conclusions that McCoy was going to get, he’d have to draw himself.  It was his turn to share and he owed Kirk an apology at the very least.  “Jim.”  He’d never been particularly good at this kind of talk. “I was being selfish and stupid, but I never meant to hurt you.  I… I need you.”

The captain rested his hand on his shoulder, careful and aware of the similarities of their previous encounter.  He let the silence settle for a minute; they were too good of friends to let this interfere.  Then Kirk gave a boyish grin and beat it towards to the door.  “Gotta go save your boyfriend.” He tossed cheekily over his shoulder. 

McCoy would have thrown something at him, if he’d had anything in his direct vicinity that wasn’t nailed down.  He settled a childishly sticking out his tongue at his back.  Even though Spock was missing, he felt a bit better for having cleared the air.  Because really, what could stop them if they were working together?

 

.o0o.


	7. Chapter 7

.o0o.

Part 7

.o0o.

 

                Kirk was just about to walk into the turbolift to get go to the bridge when he was stopped by a shout.  “Captain!  Wait!” The man in the red shirt panted, peeling around the corner at a full run.  He almost ran into Kirk but managed to skid to a halt.  “I need to speak to you, sir.”

                Kirk recognized him as Chevalier.  “I thought you were confined to quarters.” Kirk knew he’d been confined to quarters; he’d put him there. 

                “Yes, sir.”  Chevalier instantly replied.  “Dr. McCoy just had me released.” Kirk wondered when that had happened.  He hadn’t left Sickbay more than two minutes ago.  Of course, his old joke about Bones being telepathic was slightly less funny now.  “I need to speak with you, sir.”

                “If this is about what happened on the Excalibur, don’t worry about it.  We were all affected by alien entities, and we all did things we wish we hadn’t.”  Especially himself.  Compared to him, Chevalier had been an angel.

                “Sir, it’s not about Excalibur.  It’s about Cory Schneider.” Kirk gestured for the security officer to enter the turbolift with him.  He shouldn’t really be surprised.  That was what Chevalier had been arguing with Hyunh about.  “He couldn’t have killed Malcolm Brigley.”

                Kirk wished he’d taken charge of the investigation because Spock wasn’t here to fill him in on every little detail.  Sure, he’d read the reports and Spock was, as always, extremely thorough, but that didn’t make him an expert.  “If you have some more information about this, I’m all ears.”

                “He was with me at the time and after, when the body was put in the vent.  It was pretty much an all-day thing.” Chevalier was turning redder with every word, and Kirk could just imagine what they’d been doing together, but to his credit, the security guard didn’t look away. 

                “So why didn’t Schneider say this?”

                “He was trying to protect me.  I’ve got a wife and a son.  She said if I ever pulled something like this again, she’d make sure I got no visiting rights after she divorced me.”

                “You’re not exactly the best person to alibi him, then.” Kirk wondered if it was a sign that he was bad captain that he just didn’t care, not while Spock was missing.  Of course, if Chevalier was telling the truth, that meant that they had a murderer loose on the ship.       “Besides, he assaulted a superior officer in an attempt to prevent his room from being searched.”

                “Sir, the search turned up nothing.  He was just buying time for me to get out of there before I was found.  I realize that he… we’re not exactly the best people in the world, but we’re not murderers.” Chevalier took a deep breath.  “We have a video.  Of him and me.  The computer can verify the times.”

                “Send it to me on a private channel.”  Kirk wasn’t really thrilled at the idea of looking through that piece of evidence.  While he occasionally dabbled in men, he was really a ladies’ man himself, and he was unequivocally disgusted by cheaters.  The transport stopped but Kirk held the doors shut.  “Why come forward with this now?  You seemed perfectly content to let him rot in jail yesterday.”

                “They wouldn’t have convicted him because the evidence was just circumstantial.  There was nothing on him because he didn’t do it.   The plan was for him to transfer after the trial and no one would be any wiser.  It was a win-win. But Lieutenant Uhura stopped by my quarters and pointed out that if I knew something and didn’t come forward, someone else could die.” Chevalier shook his head.  “I don’t even know how she knew.  We were very careful.”

                That woman needed a promotion. Perhaps there was some merit in listening to the grapevine. “While I’m glad you finally got around to doing the right thing, your actions will have consequences.  I’m issuing a formal reprimand, and I suggest you request a transfer off this ship.”  Chevalier didn’t seem surprised or hurt by his proclamations.  In fact, he looked quite relieved.  Kirk let the doors swish open and moved to leave before he changed his mind on the light punishment.

                “And Cory?”  Chevalier whispered behind him.

                “Will remain in the brig until Commander Spock returns and decides whether or not to press charges.”

                “Yes, sir.”  Chevalier stayed in the turbolift as the doors closed and rode it back down.  Kirk was glad because he really didn’t want to see any more of that man. 

                Kirk waved Sulu off and reclaimed his captain’s chair, sitting down heavily.  For once, could he please just have one problem to deal with at a time?  Instead of returning to his station, Sulu stood at attention beside his chair.  “What are your orders concerning Mr. Spock?”

                The captain definitely did not sigh.  He may have released a heavy breath, but it was most certainly not a sigh.  This situation was torture; he had to get some more information somehow.  “Chekov, calculate the exact location on the planet’s surface that would have been directly below the Excalibur at the time of Spock’s disappearance.”  It was as good a place to start as any. 

                “Aye, Captain.”

                “Mr. Sulu, take a shuttle down to that location and try to raise us.  I want to know exactly what works and what doesn’t work through that atmospheric interference. Test it all.  Then, check a 50 kilometer radius around that location for any sign of Mr. Spock or the crew of the Excalibur.”

                Sulu nodded smartly and said, “Yes, sir” before hurrying off the bridge.  No one had any idea what was on the surface of that planet, so he couldn’t risk beaming down a party into a lava valley or worse, and was even hesitant to send a shuttle.  Sulu was his best pilot, confident, capable and able to think well on his feet.  Whatever was down there, he had faith that Sulu could manage it.  Kirk was just dreading the wait.  He had a feeling that communicators wouldn’t work or Spock would have managed to contact him by now. 

                Bones came up to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was such a comforting and familiar gesture that Kirk didn’t need to look to confirm it was the doctor.  “Jim, we may have a problem.”  Scratch the comforting part.

“I think we have more than one problem, Bones.”

Bones continued as if he hadn’t said anything, his voice low and cautious.  “I’m missing a bottle of ovalgiabizaxil.  It’s used to treat coronary diseases and can cause a heart attack if given in high doses.  It’s also undetectable after death.”

“You think it was used to kill Brigley?” 

The doctor sighed.  “It’s entirely possible, but I have no way to be sure.  Side-effects usually include skin irritation, loss of hair, and shortness of breath, but given the state of the body….”

“You wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Right.  But if it was ovalgiabizaxil, there’s no way Schneider would have been able to get it.”

“Well, apparently Schneider has an alibi, so we’re back to square one.” Kirk’s head was starting to hurt. 

“Not exactly.”  Bones said slowly.  He dropped his voice even lower so Kirk had to lean in to hear his whispered words.  “I hate to say it because up until now, I would have sworn up and down that everyone on my staff is trustworthy, but one of them has to be involved with Brigley’s death.  No one else has access to that drug.  I’d say that narrows down your search a lot.”

Kirk nodded.  “All right.  Check out your staff for alibis.”

“I’m a doctor, not a detective!”  Bones proclaimed, his pitch changing enough to garner attention from most of the bridge.  Someone chuckled and quickly covered it with a cough.  No one in their right mind would make fun of Bones, except Kirk, of course. 

“Well, gee.  You didn’t seem to have any problem with it when Spock asked you to work on the investigation.” Kirk teased.

Bones scowled.  “Reporting the finds of an autopsy is my job, not ascertaining alibis.  No thank you, Captain.  You’re on your own.  It’ll give you something to do while you wait for Sulu to get back.”

Kirk suddenly wondered if Bones was actually being intentionally unhelpful in order to… help him.  He wouldn’t put it past the sneaky devil.

 

.o0o.


	8. Chapter 8

.o0o.

Part 8

.o0o.

                McCoy would be hard pressed to admit it, but he was deeply grateful that the captain called him immediately upon Sulu’s return.  He knew without thinking that he hadn’t found Spock, but perhaps there was something in his report that would ease the doctor’s worries.

                Kirk also seemed as tense and uneasy as himself, leaving an interview half-done to get to the shuttle bay faster.  Sulu had only been gone for two hours but the wait had been agony.  He hadn’t been able to make contact until he emerged from the atmosphere. 

                “Find anything interesting in your interviews?” McCoy said it casually, but there was nervousness eating at his skin.  One of his staff was involved with a murder.

                “Not so far.” Kirk responded, not turning away from his look out.  “I started with Sagumpta since she’s the only one with a real connection to Brigley.  Her story seems legit.  They had breakfast together, got into a bit of an argument over whether marriage was the right direction for them.  Then she worked Alpha shift and went back to her quarters for a nap.  Computers confirm that she was in her quarters at the time of his death.” He sighed and turned to the doctor.  “Sorry Bones, but I’ve gotta ask.   Where were you at the time of Brigley’s death?”

                “Working.  I didn’t leave Sickbay until 18:00 hours.” McCoy didn’t really mind being asked.  It made him feel less like a bad guy in this mess. If he was going to let his staff be subjected to this, the least he could do was answer the same questions.

                “Chapel’s next.”

                McCoy snorted.  “You’re going to have to chase her down in Sickbay.  She’s been trying to tackle the schedule for the next physicals.” McCoy had been bogged down with Brigley.  He’d run dozens of tests to try to figure out what had caused the heart attack.  He’d then started doing inventory, which had fortunately been more productive.

                Sulu walked in and Kirk immediately barked, “Report.”

                “Sorry, Captain.  I saw no sign of them.”  Sulu knew to start with the important things first.  “Most of my instruments were going haywire.  No communications, no scanners, not even autopilot.  It’s all visual.  Even the tricorders were malfunctioning.  I didn’t dare go outside without knowing what might be in the air.  I was able to get a sample, though, so we could test it.”

Sulu pulled out a jar which was presumably filled with air from the planet.  McCoy took it and ran a scanner over it.  “Oxygen, nitrogen, carbon dioxide…  A bit rich on the carbon dioxide, but nothing that’ll do you any harm.   If they’re on that planet, the air certainly didn’t kill them.”  McCoy tested it again, just to make sure. 

Kirk slapped his hands together.  “All right. We’ll just have to search the whole damn planet.”

“Sir,” Sulu replied with some hesitance, obviously hoping that the captain would laugh it off and say he was joking.  “Without our technology, a visual search of the entire planet would take the better part of a year.”

McCoy found himself nodding.  “And if they all left the same way Spock did, you can bet they don’t have any provisions with them.  The human body can survive for weeks without food, but unless the crew of the Excalibur has found a source of water, they won’t last much longer.”  McCoy was pretty sure they’d be dead by now, but he decided not to point that out.  Spock would last longer, a trait born as an evolutionary advantage in the deserts of Vulcan, but he couldn’t survive the months the search would take. 

“Plus, we don’t even know if they’re on the surface, somewhere else entirely, or dead.”  If it had been anyone else insinuating that Kirk’s best friend may be dead, McCoy may have felt the urge to step between the captain and the soon-to-be-demoted (or decapitated) individual, but Sulu managed to pull it off.  His words were an unbiased statement of truth and held an unspoken message that he would support the captain completely with whatever his final decision was.

Kirk turned to his doctor.  “Bones,” he said deliberately, “Is Spock alive?”

Sulu looked thoroughly confused, which meant Chekov hadn’t yet filled him in on all the details of their trip to the Excalibur, but he wisely remained silent.   McCoy ignored him, concentrating on the link in the back of his mind.  Fortunately, for all his lack of understanding over the link and the puzzling changes that had occurred since Spock disappeared, that was the one question he could answer with certainty.  “Yes.”

“Can he tell you where he is?”

McCoy resisted the urge to turn his sarcastic on.  Of course Spock would have done that by now if it were possible.  “I don’t even think he’s awake.  It’s mostly… static on his end.”

Kirk pressed forward.  “Do you think you might be able to get better reception if you were on the planet?”

“I have no idea.”  He did have an idea that Spock was clearly rubbing off on him if his first thought was that reception was an entirely inaccurate word to be using.    “But it’s worth a shot, right?”

“I’ll go with you.”  Kirk announced, already pushing the button to reopen the shuttle bay. 

McCoy planted himself in the way so the captain couldn’t enter.  “Jim, I know you’re worried about him, but you won’t exactly be able to do anything more down there.  This is just a recon mission.  And you have interviews to be conducting.”  He reminded him gently.  “Sulu can take me.”

Kirk glanced back to the pilot who’d been waiting rather awkwardly a few feet away.  The captain mask came back up, and Kirk nodded.  “Looks like you get to go back down there.”  He said in a tone that was perhaps more grudging than it should have been.

“Aye, sir.”  Sulu said smartly as Kirk stalked off. 

To his credit, Sulu waited until they were halfway down before asking the question that had to have been burning at him since Kirk had asked McCoy about Spock.  “So, Doc, what’s with you and Spock?”

It was hard not to like Sulu, and he was one of the doctor’s closer friends on the ship, so McCoy figured he owed him some sort of explanation.  That cat was already out of the bag, anyway.  “Spock linked our minds together.” He stated simply.

“Ah.” Sulu waited approximately thirty seconds before continuing.  “What does that mean?”

“Hell if I know.” McCoy grumbled.  “Some Vulcan voodoo mind-trick.”

“Should I ask why?”

 Sulu’s attention was only half on the conversation as they neared the surface.  McCoy was too distracted by the sudden realization that he knew which way to go to answer.  “Head that way.” He stated firmly, pointing to Sulu’s left.  Sulu complied without question.  

The surface was mostly flat and covered with dull yellow dirt which stretched as far as the eye could see.  The only vegetation they could see was the occasional shrunken corpse of what appeared to have once been great trees.  Circling each giant dead tree was a pond and withered grass.  Besides that, they saw nothing but the yellow dirt. 

“At least we know there’s water.”  Sulu commented optimistically. 

McCoy figured he was being optimistic by not pointing out that these trees were hundreds of kilometers apart.  “So, assuming we’re able to locate them, how will we find the place again with all the gear malfunctioning?”

“Once we get back to the Enterprise, I can calculate the distance by our point of entry, our direction and our speed.  Of course, I could just fly straight up and use our exit point to calculate the beaming point.  That would probably be a bit easier.”  Although McCoy was glad that the helmsman was too preoccupied to ask more questions about the link, he still regretting using the word how.  A ‘yes, I can do it,’ would have sufficed.  “Using our speed and time, we’ll have the exact distance to the ground, so beaming in afterward shouldn’t really pose a problem.”

“What’s that?” McCoy asked, leaning forward to get a better look at the strange, dark clouds looming ahead.

“Electrical storm. We’ll have to go around it.”  The shuttle jumped under them and McCoy clung tighter to his seat as Sulu finally pulled on his safety harness. The man was a bit too fond of excitement for the doctor’s taste.  “Hang tight, Doc.  We’re experiencing some turbulence.”

“Some turbulence, my ass.” McCoy growled as the shuttle tilted.  The mass of clouds was much larger than he’d originally estimated.  He was having a bad feeling about all this.  “We’re getting close.”

Sulu nodded, keeping up the conversation like they were just sitting in the mess hall and not struggling through heavy winds and dodging lightning.  “The storm is probably related to all this atmospheric disturbance we’re having.”  The pilot backed off a bit from the storm as a lightning strike nearly grazed them.  McCoy closed his eyes and hoped for the best.  He really wished Sulu would stop humming.  “How close would you say we are?”

                McCoy’s stomach settled with the shuttle.  They were past the storm.  He felt along the link that was getting easier and easier to grab hold of and swore.  “We seem to have passed him.”

                Sulu took it in stride, gracefully swinging the shuttle in a full one-eighty and heading back to the storm.  “Maybe he’s just on the other side.”  He suggested, “I’ll circle the storm, and you can see what you pick up.”

                “I’m a doctor, not radar.” McCoy muttered, his voice mostly swallowed by the noises of the quickly approaching storm.  He couldn’t say if Sulu heard him or not. 

                It took nearly ten minutes to circle the massive storm as Sulu lowered his speed to navigate a bit better.  It took only three minutes for McCoy to come to the conclusion that Spock was definitely on the _inside_ of that storm and another four minutes to admit it to Sulu.  He continued to circle.  “Well, if we’re sure that’s where they are, we could beam down straight inside.  Might be a bit safer than trying to take this through.”

                McCoy bit his lip.  He wanted to risk it while Sulu wanted to pull back?  Clearly there was something wrong with him.  “We don’t know what’s on the other side.   We could beam into a lake, assuming that the atmospheric disturbance doesn’t scramble our atoms irreparably.  And what about the people in there?  They might not have the time to spare.”

                “Sir, if we don’t make it through, or the shuttle sustains too much damage to fly again, we’ll be in the same boat as the crew of the Excalibur.  Only, worse because I’ve got the only human radar.”  Sulu’s voice had acquired an edge to it and McCoy considered how much stress their current activities were bringing.  Taking the tin can through an electrical storm was probably not as easy as Sulu made it look.   He’d let him get away with the human radar quip. 

                “Fine.  We report back first, but I still think we shouldn’t try beaming in there.” 

                Sulu spared him a smirk.  “You don’t think we should try beaming anywhere.”

                “Damn straight.”

                “All right.  I’m going to back off a bit before-” Sulu was cut off by a terrible screeching crash from behind them.  McCoy clutched his seat tighter.  “We’ve been hit!”  He shouted over grinding metal.  “I’ve got to bring her down.”

                “Bring her down that way!”  McCoy shouted back, pointing into the storm. 

                “Are you nuts?”

                “Just trust me!”  And Sulu did, narrowly dodging another strike of lightning as they went deeper into the clouds.

                McCoy, for his part, wasn’t sure if he was nuts for suggesting such a maneuver, but his gut told him it was the right thing to do.  Spock was alive, unconscious, but alive, which meant there had to be safety inside of this horrible storm.  And if they crashed on this planet where rescue could be months away, there’d be more safety in numbers.  That was exactly what he intended to tell Sulu when they landed, assuming they survived.  He would not be including his purely medical concerns over Spock’s continued unconsciousness. 

                The shuttle fell in a controlled tumble, and McCoy was jerked back and forth between his seat and his harness with enough force to knock the wind out of him.  The window was a mass of cloudy grey swirl with alarming streams of yellow.  And then the window was clear, sunlight streaming in like nothing strange had occurred.  They’d passed the storm.  McCoy took a breath, then remembered that they were still falling.  The ground was quickly approaching; the first contact rang in his ears as they bounced three times before sliding to a halt. 

                “You okay?”  Sulu asked as he unbuckled himself.

                “Fine.”  It seemed like the appropriate answer, but in truth he ached all over.  Nothing he wouldn’t live through.  “How’re you?”  His doctor eyes scanned the other man up and down but could see no visual damage. 

                “There will be bruises tomorrow, that’s for sure.  Not one of my smoother landings.”  For good measure, the doctor pulled out his tricorder to double check, but the readings went haywire.  He settled for watching closely as the other man went in the back of the shuttle and inspected the damage. “Oh, this isn’t too bad.”  Sulu said cheerfully.  “We’ve got a spare one of these, and I can probably override this here.”

                “So we can get this flying again?” McCoy asked, looking dubiously around.

                “Seems like it.  I’ve gotta check on some things on the outside.”  Sulu threw open the hatch and climbed out of the shuttle without pause.  “Hey, Doc, check this out.”

                Stepping out of the shuttle, McCoy immediately recognized the source of Sulu’s excitement.  The storm clouds they’d circled hadn’t been one giant storm, but a ring around this calm, peaceful haven.  Here, a greenish blue grass was covering most of the yellow dirt and a soft breeze blew.  It was surprisingly nice.  In the distance, he could see one of the giant trees they’d passed earlier, but this one was clearly still alive.  “Spock is in that direction.  I’m going to get a better look.”

                “Be careful.  Those things that took him might still be around.”

                “You too.  If you see an amorphous colorful blob, don’t go near it.  And try to stay calm.”  He probably should be waiting for Sulu to finish, but he couldn’t stand any more waiting.  Rank hath its privileges, after all. 

                The doctor headed off to the tree at a light jog, thankful that he took such good care of himself.  He could jog for hours if given sufficient motivation and didn’t have a bad sprinting record, either.  It was a good way to relieve stress from his strenuous job and kept him in good condition for the landing parties Kirk insisted on putting him in.

                At a distance, he’d thought the tree resembled a weeping willow, but as he drew closer, the reality seemed to be much more horrible than that.  The numerous limbs were less like drooping wheat and more like spindly tentacles.  At the base of the tree, he could make out the forms of hundreds of people sitting on the grass, their backs to the tree trunk and each one of them seemed to be attached to a tentacle. 

                A burst of color to his left sprung to life and McCoy twisted around to see it better, falling hard on his side in the process.  He caught a glimpse of it as he fell, identifying it as the strange creature that had grabbed Spock.  It seemed to not to have noticed him, though, so he rolled over and took a deep breath in relief, only to feel a sharp pain in his back.  He reached around and pulled a rock from behind him.  It was warm and glowing.  He nearly dropped it in surprise.  Now that he inspected it, it looked less like a rock and more like a plant.  He wondered at its properties and absently slipped it into his medkit before rolling over to get a better look at his surroundings. 

                The glowing creatures seemed to appear and disappear in front of him, moving almost like they were patrolling the perimeter of the tree.  Guards, then.  McCoy kept his head low to the ground.  If they were this far out, he dared not go any closer.  The entire crew of the Excalibur had been taken without managing to damage one of these things, so the safest route is to avoid them entirely.  As Sulu had pointed out, they needed to report back in before doing anything rash.

                McCoy looked over the people collected under the tree, squinting to get a better picture in the bright light.  It was too far to get a good look at any of the faces, but it was definitely humans gathered there. They were sitting up of what seemed their own volition, so he was hopeful that no one was gravely injured.  Instinctively, he looked for Spock, finding him more through the link than through sight.  He was sitting cross-legged with the rest of them.  

                The doctor ducked his head when he saw another creature appear in front of him and inched backwards.  He gave a solid minute trying to nudge Spock awake with his mind, but he couldn’t be sure if his lack of success was due to his inexperience or the tree’s interference.  The creature (or another one, who could really be sure) passed in front of him again, closer than before, and McCoy decided it was really time for him to leave.  He ran for several minutes before slowing his pace, hoping that he was a safe distance away. 

                Sulu waved at him from a fair distance and grinned broadly when he was in hearing range.  “I was starting to think you’d gotten captured.”

                McCoy huffed, more for show than for a lack of air.  “Well, that’s what I’d planned, but then I remembered we didn’t make any arrangements for if I didn’t come back.”

                “If you’re going to lead away missions, you should really be more clear in your orders.  Maybe the captain will put me in charge next time if I tell him.”  Sulu remarked, whipping his hands on a cloth.

                “Trust me, he knows.”  McCoy made a show of rolling his eyes.  “I found him.  And I didn’t count, but I’m pretty sure it’s the whole crew of the Excalibur parked under that tree over there.  Those creatures were all over the place, though, so there wasn’t a whole lot I could do.” McCoy changed the subject abruptly.  “So, when can we get out of here?”

                Sulu slammed the lid shut on one of the sides.  “Should be all set to go, so long as we don’t land again.  That system will need some more repairs.  But we shouldn’t need it for now since the Enterprise can use its tractor beams when we get close.”  Sulu looked up.   “We should be able to head straight up from here, no problem.”

                McCoy nodded.  Spock would tell him that feeling like he was abandoning the Vulcan was illogical as he was better facilitating a rescue.   But McCoy had never been very logical.

 

.o0o.


	9. Chapter 9

.o0o.

Part 9

.o0o.

 

                Kirk never had much occasion to spend time with Christine Chapel, but he’d always held an image of her as a Bones-in-training.  She hadn’t quite worked out the whole grumpy thing, but she was certainly tenacious, emotion-driven, and supremely proficient in the medical world.  She had eyes and ears everywhere, so if someone knew something in regards to the Brigley fiasco, he had his money on Chapel. 

                Only, the knowledge she did have came at a hefty price. 

                The Sickbay was abuzz with energy when the captain strode in, and he immediately spotted the source.  Chapel was lying in a stretcher near the back, clutching her stomach as M’Benga prepared for surgery.  One of the nurses, Walsh, immediately came up to him.   “Captain.  I was just about to call you.  Chapel refuses to go into surgery until she’s spoken with you.”  Walsh led him across the room.  “Try and be quick, Captain, she’s lost a lot of blood.”

                Kirk nodded and Walsh hurried away.  “What happened?”  He asked the Head Nurse, resting a hand gently on her arm. 

                Chapel swallowed hard and cringed.  “It was Sagumpta, Captain. Such a nice girl, I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.  She was after a bottle of ovalgiabizaxil.  I asked her what it was for, and she just attacked me.  She said she was going to kill us all.  Next thing I know, I’ve got a laser scalpel wound in my stomach, and Sagumpta’s gone.  She just went crazy.  I couldn’t stop her.”

                “You did a good job.”  Kirk comforted.  “I’ll take over from here; you just get yourself into surgery.”

                Chapel nodded.  “Be careful.”

                Kirk rushed into Bones’ office, calling up Uhura without delay.  “Uhura.  Locate Nurse Sagumpta immediately.”

                “She’s in her quarters, sir.”  Uhura transferred the room number so it flashed on his screen.  He took a quick note of it, and barreled out the door, not bothering to turn off the intercom.

                With a bit of reluctance, he stopped by the armory to grab a phaser before running the rest of the way to Sagumpta’s room.   He hated to wait any longer, but the nurse was apparently armed and very dangerous.  He was having trouble believing that all this was true.  He hadn’t known Sagumpta well, but he’d spoken with her only a few hours prior, and he had been completely confident when he’s crossed her off his list of suspects.  What had caused her to snap and why hadn’t anyone noticed?

                Kirk didn’t bother with asking for entry; instead, he slammed in his captain’s override as quickly as possible.  Sagumpta didn’t look up from her inspection of her blood covered hands, the laser scalpel lying discarded on the table beside her. 

                The captain wasn’t about to take any chances, though, and raised his phaser.  “Stand up slowly.”

                Sagumpta didn’t move.  “My hands are all bloody…” She whispered.  “Why are my hands bloody?”

                “We know what you did.”

                The effect was instantaneous; Sagumpta grabbed the scalpel and whirled on the captain, brandishing the weapon like a sword.  Her eyes were unruly and her breath came in deep pants.  “It took you long enough, Captain.  Here I was able to kill Brigley and Chapel before you caught on to me.”  Her smile was vicious. 

                “How did you kill Brigley?  You weren’t even there.” 

                “He always drinks his tea at 15:00 hours.  All I had to do was slip something in his drink earlier and go back to my room for the computer to alibi me.   It was really too easy.”    Kirk took a slow step closer.   Sagumpta took one back so she stayed out of his reach.  “Goodbye, Captain.”  And she plunged the scalpel into her eye, digging into her brain and killing her instantly. 

                Kirk stood dumbly, unsure of what had just happened. 

 

.o0o.


	10. Chapter 10

.o0o.

Part 10

.o0o.

 

            _Captain’s Log, Stardate 3197.2. Just a few hours ago, Eva Sagumpta committed suicide after confessing to the murder of Malcolm Brigley.  All evidence points to a psychotic break and suggests that this will be an isolated incident.  While both of these young people will be missed, I am relieved to report that we no longer need to fear a murderer in our midst.  A memorial service will be provided for Sagumpta to commemorate her noble and courageous deeds before her psychotic break._

_Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Sulu have returned from the surface of Andar IX having successfully located the missing crew of the U.S.S. Excalibur, who appear to be alive. Unfortunately, they are being held unconscious under what appears to be a cross between an alien life form and a large tree, and they are guarded by the same creatures that removed them from the ship.  We do not yet know how to defend ourselves against these creatures, nor the purpose for which the crew is being held.  Worse, members of my own crew have gone missing since the return of McCoy and Sulu, and I must conclude that they’ve accidently brought one of the creatures back with them.  If things progress here in the same manner as they did on the Excalibur, I suspect the entire crew will begin to behave irrationally within five hours, and we will all be transported to the planet’s surface within three days.  If such events come to pass, it is my belief that a second rescue attempt would be too dangerous to try. I dare not retreat without fear of taking these creatures with us._

Kirk turned off his log and rubbed his hands over his face.  He took a deep breath to steel himself and then swung his chair around to look at the majority of the bridge crew.  “Well, gentlemen and lady,” he nodded at Uhura, “Suggestions?”

            “Well, I’ve managed to reconfigure a tricorder to detect those buggers.”  Scotty volunteered.  “We can give tricorders to as much of the crew as possible, then they can at least run away if they spot one.  Don’t think it’s a permanent solution, but it might buy us some time.”

            Kirk nodded.  “What about weapons?” 

            “I’ve been working on the phasers, but I didn’t have anything to test them on.”

            “Well, now you do.”  Kirk prompted.  “Get a team to reconfigure all of the tricorders we have and then hand them out, starting with the bridge.  Then get to work on those phasers.  I need them as soon as possible, Scotty.” 

            “Aye, Captain.  You can take this one to start with.”  The engineer handed off a tricorder and hurried from the room. 

            Kirk took it and immediately scanned the bridge.  Sulu swiveled in his chair and offered, “Sir, even if we can get the phasers to have some effect, they don’t work on the surface of the planet.  Neither do the tricorders.”

            “We’ve gotta clear the ship first, then we can work on the people on the surface.”  Kirk responded, slapping the tricorder closed, immensely relieved that nothing had appeared on the bridge.  It wouldn’t do to go around kissing anyone else.  He handed the tricorder off to Chekov who eagerly began looking over Scotty’s reprogramming, heading over to the science station. “Where are all of them coming from anyway? Don’t they teleport down to the planet with their victim?”

            Bones jumped in, “My guess is that they reproduce first.  Maybe through mitosis. If they came up on our shuttles, then there could only have been a few of them at first.  In order to get everyone on the Excalibur from just one shuttle, they’d have to be able to reproduce once on board.”

            “Can we stop them from reproducing?”

            Bones seemed to mull this over.  “Generally, it takes a great deal of energy to reproduce.  If we can cut off their source of food, then it should stop them from reproducing.  In theory.”

            “And what are they feeding on?”  It couldn’t be their replicated food, could it?  They didn’t even appear to exist in the same dimension.  There was a slight pause as everyone pondered Kirk’s question.

            “Emotions.”  Uhura said from her station with finality.  “That’s why they made us all emotional when we went over to the Excalibur. They feed off our emotions.”

            “That doesn’t make any sense.”  Kirk shook his head.  “If they’re feeding off emotions, why take Spock?”

            “Um.”  Chekov interjected hesitantly, “I believe you were their target, Captain.”  From his periphery, he could see that Bones was nodding in agreement. 

            Kirk had to concede that that made the most sense.  “I can’t ask my crew to simply stop feeling.  We need a way to communicate with these things.  Uhura?”

            Uhura stood and joined their circle.  “I've tried everything in the book and then made up some more, but the entities don't seem to be affected by anything. I'm not sure what else to do, sir.”

            “We need someone who’s been inside of it.”  Bones commented gravely.  He seemed to have concocted some sort of plan, and Kirk was sure he wouldn’t like it.

            “Well, that would be nice, but we seem to have a shortage of those.” 

            Bones came around his chair so he could look the captain in the eye.  “Let me go get him,” he said in earnest.  Kirk didn’t have to ask to know that ‘him’ meant Spock. 

            Kirk shook his head, more in disbelief than in discouragement.  “I think you missed the part where we decided that they feed off of emotions.  You’re the most emotional person I know.  You’ll be like an all-you-can-eat buffet to them.  Literally anyone else on the ship would be better.”

            “Normally, I’d take that as a compliment, but I really did learn a thing or two from Spock.  I can do this.” Kirk would wager that the last sentence was said more to convince himself than the captain.

            “And if you can’t?”

            “You’ll know exactly where to find me.”  Seconds ticked by, but Bones didn’t back down.

            “Captain!” Chekov exclaimed, looking excitedly up from Spock’s console.  “I duplicated Mr. Scott’s changes into our scanners and conducted a ship-wide scan.  There are over a hundred of the creatures aboard, mostly where there are a lot of people, like engineering and the rec rooms.”

            “Not sure why you’re happy, Ensign.”  The situation was much worse than Kirk had feared.

            “Because the Excalibur doesn’t have any trace of them.  We can evacuate.”

            Kirk nodded.  As much as he was loathe to leave his ship, that was good news.  “Keep an eye on the transporter room, and let them know immediately if any of the creatures enter. Sulu, I want you to lead the evacuation.  If they follow you into the transporter room, start sending people in shuttles.”

            “Aye, sir.”  Sulu said dutifully, hurrying from the room.

            “You’re not going.” Kirk stated in a tone that would leave no room for argument. 

            For anyone other than the doctor.  “We can’t just leave them down there!”

            “I have no intention of abandoning them.  But endangering yourself isn’t going to help matters.”  Kirk huffed.  “I’ll just chop down that damn tree.”

            “We have no idea what that would do to the people attached.”  Bones reasoned.  “Not to mention that you’d have to get through those glowing aliens to reach it.  They probably wouldn’t take kindly to you cutting down their tree.”

            “Then we can try a mass beam out.” 

            “I’d advise against it.”  Bones countered.  “Something about that tree is keeping them unconscious, and my best guess is some mental joining.  Severing it could cause more damage than good.”

            “Scotty’s working on the phasers-”   

            “Which won’t work on the surface.  Jim, let me try.  If I can’t get him out, then you can still try the mass beam out.”

            Kirk thought about it.  If it were anyone else who thought they could do it and wanted to try, would he let them go?  Probably; he was quickly running out of safe options to perform a rescue with.  And none of them would have the advantage of being linked to a Vulcan.  Would Bones be able to use Spock’s training?  Did he really want to know?  “All right.”

 

.o0o.


	11. Chapter 11

.o0o.

Part 11

.o0o.

                As much as McCoy had tried to convince the captain that he was doing this to get information about defeating their enemies and as much as he tried to convince himself that he really needed to go to ensure the medical safety of the crew of the Excalibur, which had apparently and been living without food and water for several days under some strange form of hypnosis, there was a disturbingly large portion of himself that was just crazy, stupid obsessed with ensuring Spock’s safety.  He blamed it on the link.  Just because he couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t been crazy, stupid obsessed with Spock’s safety didn’t mean that it wasn’t the link’s fault.

                The doctor took a deep breath and counted to ten in his head; it wouldn’t do to get himself caught by these emotion-sucking aliens before he even made it to the planet’s surface.   Once he’d had most of his memories back, he’d asked Spock about the trick he’d used to suppress his emotions.  It’d mostly been in horrified wonder, but as it turned out, he had a use for that particular exercise.

                _“How come my emotions came back all at once, but my memories have been taking ages?”  McCoy asked the minute he’d entered Spock’s quarters._

_Spock raised an eyebrow at the seemingly random question.  “Your emotions did not return all at once, as you suppose, but rather as a result of direct stimuli in the same manner as your memories were able to emerge.  It only appeared to be instantaneous because there was a great deal of varying emotional stimuli at the time.”_

_McCoy nodded, sitting at the spare chair across from Spock, “Is that the same technique you use to suppress your emotions?”_

_“Vulcans do not suppress their emotions.”  Before they’d found themselves linked, McCoy would have bet good money that that was all Spock was going to say on the matter.  But since, he’d found that Spock was willing to open up to him more, and that there’d been times when Spock would have said more if only the doctor had bothered to ask.  McCoy waited.  “While we do not express our emotions, it would be illogical to deny that we have them.  In order to control our emotions, we must acknowledge and understand the source of them.”_

_McCoy didn’t bother to ask how he knew how to do it.  It was probably either some innate telepath ability or something children learn to do.  That seemed to be the response to anything Spock was willing to talk to him about.  “Can you show me how you did it?”_

_Spock’s face was completely blank, but McCoy felt the flicker of surprise.  Why would he, of all people, want to learn to suppress his emotions?  The truth was that he didn’t.  He wanted to know how it was done so that he could make sure if never happened.  The problem was that he couldn’t explain that to Spock without implying that he thought Spock would do that to him in another context.  But it wasn’t Spock he was afraid of at all._

_“If that is your desire.”_

The turbolift shifted into a horizontal direction as McCoy began to recite Spock’s instructions.  He was glad that he was the only person on the lift or he might not have had adequate concentration.

_Clear your mind._

Easier said than done.  McCoy counted his breaths.  Slow, steady, even. 

_Visualize yourself in your mind’s eye and locate the source of your emotions._

That was a much easier task since he’d done it with Spock on several occasions now.   Soon, he found himself in a room with a plethora of carbon copies of himself.  He didn’t look at the stage; he didn’t want to be discouraged… or encourage anything. 

_Close the door and visualize covering the cracks in a sealant or adhesive.  Your subconscious will do the rest._

The doctor selected silicone because it was the first thing that popped into his head that he knew what it looked like. This is where it got tricky.  He hadn’t been inclined to actually complete the suppression process at the time, but Spock had assured him that a complete seal would satisfactorily suppress his emotions until he removed it.  He was applying the silicone when the turbolift stopped and the doors swung open.

McCoy felt very far away from himself and detached from the panicked rush of the crewmembers around him gathered in the shuttle bay.  He found Sulu with relative ease and informed him of his task.  Sulu’s eyes remained attached to the tricorder as he scanned the area again.  It had only taken a few minutes for the transporter room to be overrun.  The shuttle bay wasn’t much better, but they could scan each shuttle before they left. 

“Take a tricorder with you and scan the shuttle on the way back to make sure you’re clean before going to the Excalibur.  If you pick up one of them, you’ll have to come back here.”  Sulu glanced up and did a double take.  “Are you feeling all right, sir?”

“Peachy.” McCoy responded, because that was how he was supposed to act, but he felt empty. 

“I can spare Thistle.”  Sulu called her over and briefly explained before turning to the next case.

“Since you’re heading to the surface anyway, you might as well take one of the infected ones.”  Thistle said in a tone that was half apologetic.  Like everyone else, she seemed to think this was a pointless, suicide mission.  McCoy couldn’t say he disagreed.

“That’s fine.”   He said mechanically and climbed into a shuttle, even as Thistle was hurrying away.  He looked over the controls and wished he would have been able to bring a pilot with him.  But the pilots were needed for the evacuation.  McCoy did know how to fly it; he just tried to avoid doing so as much as was possible because it still freaked him out.  Now, though, he felt no fear as he pulled out of the shuttle bay. 

He programmed the computer to bring him to the exact spot he and Sulu had emerged from earlier.  The rotation of the planet made the trip shorter than before and he was soon settling the shuttle on the surface.  Flying in from directly above allowed him to enter the area without going through the stormy circle and this landing was much smoother. 

Walking briskly to the great tree, McCoy found that none of the glowing entities had any interest in him.  He also realized that he had not made any plans for if he was successful in making it to the tree.  The doctor inspected the nearest crewman for any signs of distress.  With his gear malfunctioning, he couldn’t be certain of any diagnosis he came up with, but the situation looked hopeful.  The man was slightly warmer and slightly paler than he should have been, but not alarmingly so.  He looked as if he’d simply fallen into a deep sleep while sitting up.  A groggy smile quirking the edge of his lips seemed to prove it. 

The green tentacle from the tree had wound itself around his torso and was mostly holding the man up, but it seemed less like the grip of a feeding alien and more like the caress of a loving mother.  At least, that’s what McCoy thought until he saw tendrils snaking away from the tentacle and piercing into the side of the man’s neck.  He supposed the tree must be supplying nutrients or the people gathered below would be in much worse condition. 

McCoy took a step back and surveyed the people around him.  They all appeared to be in a similar condition.  He spotted a couple of people from the Enterprise.

 He circled the tree until he found Spock, and all sense of emotional control vanished.  He wondered if the seal had broken, if he hadn’t done it right.   He looked around at the creatures that seemed to have finally noticed his presence and rewarded him by disappearing.  Although it had taken some time for the creatures to build up enough energy to transport Spock away, McCoy had no idea what effect being right next to the tree would have.  Whatever the case, he doubted he had much time.

He tried calling to Spock, but the Vulcan did not stir.  McCoy bit his lip, unsure of what to do. He grabbed the tentacle, intent on pulling it off his friend, but the thing pulled him forward with surprising strength and he ended up sprawled in Spock’s lap with the branch twisted around them both.  Suddenly, he felt very sleepy. 

The last conscious thought he had was that this was going to be very awkward at some point.

 

.o0o.


	12. Chapter 12

.o0o.

Part 12

.o0o.

                Spock had been dreaming.   He knew he’d been dreaming because he was not on speaking terms with his father, Dr. McCoy had never met his mother and Captain Kirk did not, to his knowledge, own a tutu, pink or otherwise.   And while it was rare for a Vulcan to dream in times other than extreme stress or exhaustion, his human heritage insured that he experience dreaming with more regularity than was desirable. 

                As soon as he realized that he’d been awoken from a dream, Spock looked for the source of the disturbance.  There was the sensation of something heavy and warm sitting on his crossed legs and draped over his chest, which he quickly identified as McCoy when the link flared to life.  The doctor was almost immediately unconscious, but Spock was able to catch the gist of the man’s intentions.  He wanted Spock so that they could communicate with the aliens.

                He evaluated his situation.  Although he’d experienced many types of telepathic communication in his lifetime, his current state was unlike anything else.  The nearest analogy he could muster was uploading his brain into the ship’s computer.  He could feel the various other minds linked into the same system, and each was a complex and multifaceted interface.  Spock knew that he could reach out and interact with any of the others involved, but they were all being conducted through a central system. 

                There were ancient tales on Vulcan of mass mind-melds that were not dissimilar to his current predicament.   However, these tales were generally regarded as myths.  A telepathic connection between more than two people was considered dangerous, extremely difficult, and, in most cases, impractical.  This is why he needed to take McCoy to Vulcan to get the link dissolved.  It required a very powerful Vulcan or a telepath of a higher order.  Whatever being was able to create this connection between the hundreds of crewmen gathered was a telepath of the highest order. 

                Slowly, carefully, Spock attempted to make contact with the main conductor.  If this being was hostile, it could likely destroy his mind with a single thought.  It was surprised but welcomed him into a mental embrace.  ‘Why have you taken us captive?’  Spock asked with his mind.

                ‘Captive?’ The tree exuded confusion. ‘You do not wish to be here?’

                ‘We do not.’

                ‘Then why have you come here?’  The tree asked. 

                ‘We are explorers.  We wish to meet new life forms and learn about them.’

                ‘Your kind has such strong emotions.  I had believed them to be the lost ones.’  Spock felt true remorse and a deep, pervading sadness.   He did not inform the tree that he was of a different kind than the others.

                ‘Who are the lost ones?’ Spock asked patiently.

                ‘Please allow me to explain.’ The tree drew him closer in and gently began to probe his mind, looking for the proper words and customs.  Spock allowed it.  ‘I see that you usually begin with an exchange of names.  We do not keep names for ourselves as you do, but the lost ones used to call us Indyrin.’

                ‘I am Spock.’

                ‘I have seen,’ the tree acknowledged.  Its mind brushed his again and soon he could see the images to go along with the words.  ‘Many, many centuries ago, the Indyrin lived in harmony with the humanoids of this planet.  When the humanoids grew old and weak, they would sit under our limbs and we would take them where ever they wished to go.  Any dream or adventure they had desired but not fulfilled could be theirs; any event they had loved could be repeated over and over again; even a world made completely of fantasy was theirs when they sat beneath our boughs.  In exchange, their emotions sustained us, and we gathered their knowledge to learn about a world we could not move to see.’

                The tree paused as Spock took in the scene of people too old and frail to have their own adventures being supplied with a mental equivalent.  Spock had to admit that the situation was not unpleasant.   If anything, it was symbiotic, beneficial to all involved.   Spock waited patiently until the tree continued.  ‘We lived this way in peace until a catastrophe ripped us apart.  An asteroid struck the surface of our planet and the minerals reacted with the atmosphere, making the air unbreathable for the people.  Many were killed immediately; the rest retreated off the planet to find a new home, promising to return for us when they settled.’

                Spock was nearly thrown back by the waves of pain rolling off the tree.   The pain of loss and the pain of loneliness reverberated around him like a shout inside a church bell. 

                ‘We waited so long for the lost ones to return.  So many years.  Without the emotions, we grew weaker and weaker.  One by one, the others gave up and died until I was the only one left.  I held on because the land had grown habitable, and I believed that the lost ones would find their way back.  I’ve been alone for a long time now.’

                Spock saw the arrival of the Excalibur and felt the echo of the tree’s hope flourishing.  ‘When your people sent down that first shuttle, I was so weak that I thought they might pass me over.  It took nearly all of my remaining strength to make that first tree spirit so that they could find their way back to me.  So that we could be reunited.’

                ‘You have seen my mind.’  Spock stated, ‘So you must know that it is unlikely we are the descendants of your lost ones.  You must release those that you now hold if we are to continue peaceful contact.’

                The tree obeyed; Spock felt mind after mind slipping from the group meld as each tentacle withdrew until only the one around Spock and McCoy remained.  The doctor’s mind was drawn into their conversation, and Spock wordlessly filled him in on the major details of the previous discussion.  McCoy grew sympathetic as he listened.

 ‘Interesting.’ The tree commented, ‘I did not know your minds could join like yours have.’

‘If this Indyrin is so mentally powerful, couldn’t it break our link?’  McCoy suggested, awkwardly stumbling to find the right wording, and Spock could feel a burst of hope coming from the doctor.

‘I could not.’ The tree contradicted, ‘My strength is only in observation and illusions.  I can make no actual changes.’

‘Figures.’  McCoy grumbled. 

‘I believe we may be of some assistance in your plight.’ Spock cut in. ‘Now that we have established communication, we may be able to create a mutually beneficial relationship.  The knowledge you possess could be valuable to our Federation.’

‘I would be immensely grateful.’ 

‘We must discuss matters with our commander.’  Spock felt himself sliding out of the mental connection with the tree and back towards his physical body.  The last impression it left upon him was a tremendous fear of being left alone again.

.o0o.


	13. Chapter 13

.o0o.

Part 13

.o0o.

.

                Spock emerged from the haze to the sound of Captain Kirk talking with Captain Harris.  “And we can find no trace of the creatures on either ship.  I had my chief engineer rig your transporter to scan for them as you beam up, just in case, but you should be all set to leave once my medical team checks you out.”

                “I’m telling you, Jim, that tree had no intention of hurting us.  I’ve just had a lovely shore-leave fishing with my son.  And aside from the fact that my son actually wanted to go fishing, it was so incredibly real.”  Captain Harris’ voice took on a wistful quality. 

                Kirk sounded distrustful.  “You and everyone else.  Everyone has some great adventure to tell.  Richards just told the nurse that she beheaded a dragon, and one of your crewmen that I didn’t quite catch the name of swears up and down that he found a way to make the warp drive go twice as fast.  Just because it was pleasant, doesn’t make that thing safe.”

                “Oh, Jim.  You don’t understand.  You weren’t _in_ there.”  Harris didn’t seem particularly upset at Kirk’s skepticism. 

                Spock’s legs were quite numb.  He prodded McCoy, who scrambled to get off of him.  He was fairly sure he’d never seen the doctor move with such haste before.  Still, he was not able to evade Kirk’s notice.   “All these empty seats around here and you have to choose one that’s already taken.”  Kirk teased and Spock felt the doctor’s flush of embarrassment.

                McCoy was wavering between indignation and humor, trying to decide which one would get people to forget about this situation quicker.  He was projecting again and Spock heard that it was ‘so much worse than Jim knowing because the entire crew of, not one, but two ships had seen that little display.’  Spock thought this was an unfair assessment as the majority of the Enterprise’s crew did not appear to be present.  He told the doctor as much.  McCoy glared at him and turned to Kirk.  “In my defense, all of the other seats were taken at the time.”  Kirk laughed heartily, but Spock could tell it was more in relief that his friends were okay than in pleasure at the humor. 

Spock stretched his legs out and carefully stood.  “Captain Harris is correct. We have spoken with the Indyrin, and it would appear that there was no ill intent.  It was merely a case of mistaken identity.”

Kirk floundered a minute because he very rarely doubted the word of his second in command.  “Who did they think we were?”

“Persons of similar genetic make-up.  They used to cohabit this planet with the Indyrin and supply emotional sustenance in exchange for the pleasant dreams we experienced.”  Spock summarized. “The glowing entities that we originally saw were merely subjects of this Indyrin, sent to collect us.”

“Jim, we’ve gotta help it.” McCoy threw in.  “It’s the last of its kind and it knows everything about the people that came before.  Not helping would be like letting the Library of Alexandria burn again.  Plus, I think people might actually enjoy coming here.”

“And if Starfleet hadn’t sent the Enterprise, everyone here might have enjoyed it until they died.  It’s dangerous.”  Kirk eyeballed the tree, and Spock turned to get a better look at it.  “Bones, check in with the med team and see what they’ve come up with.  And get yourself checked out while you’re at it.”

McCoy nodded and left.  Harris watched him leave and then spoke up, “I think he’s right.  That tree could know something that could really make a difference in Starfleet.  I’m going to recommend that we continue relations here, with caution.  And they should probably bring along a Vulcan or two.”  He nodded at Spock.   “To make things easier.”  

Kirk didn’t look entirely convinced.  Spock imagined that he was probably considering the possibility of the alien providing a natural high that could be affecting Captain Harris’ judgment. The thought had crossed Spock’s mind as well.  Everyone who had been under the tree’s influence did seem to be in a particularly good mood.  Kirk turned to his First Officer.  “And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I believe it is.  The Indyrin released us immediately upon request, and I could sense nothing but honesty behind its words.  It seems unlikely that these events should repeat themselves.”

“There you have it.”  Harris gave a lofty grin and turned to leave.  “Oh, and Jim, I owe you one.”

Once the other captain was out of earshot, Kirk turned to Spock.  “You know, Bones, I can see, but why didn’t _you_ tell me about the link?”

“It was at the doctor’s request.”  Spock replied stoically.  “He has found acclimation to the link to be difficult, particularly what he views to be an invasion of his privacy.  I did not believe it was prudent, or necessary to go against his wishes.”  Spock decided against continuing as McCoy was approaching, his head buried in a PADD. 

McCoy thrummed his fingers over his PADD as he explained to Kirk.  “Well, I can’t find anything abnormal, besides the small puncture wounds on everyone’s neck.  A once over with a dermal generator ought to fix that.   Dopamine levels are slightly elevated, but not more than having a good rest and a wonderful dream would do.  People are complaining of some aches and pains related to sitting in one position for too long.   Other than that, no one’s the worse for wear.”

Kirk huffed in frustration, still looking distrustfully at the tree.  “None of you seem to remember how close this thing came to a complete disaster.  If you and Spock hadn’t been linked, we probably wouldn’t have even found the crew.  No matter how peaceful that thing’s intentions may have been, we very nearly lost over four hundred people, including Spock.”

“I do recall the dangers of our mission.  However, it is illogical to disavow ourselves the fruits of such labors given that the risks are no longer present.”  Spock stated, folding his arms behind his back.  Surely the captain would appeal to this logic.

McCoy comforted him on a more emotional level, throwing an arm over Kirk’s shoulders and leaning in.  “You can stamp a big, fat warning sign on this planet to make sure no one falls into the same trap.  But really, once Starfleet gets wind of what the Indyrin might know, that’s gonna be the most you can do about it.”   The doctor gave a crooked smile that Spock decided he liked.  “You’re just jealous because you didn’t get to play knight in shining armor this time.”

“All right, fine.” Kirk obviously did not like them teaming up against him.  “Now, are you two sure you want to break your link?  From where I’m sitting, you two make a pretty cute couple.”

“We’re not a couple.” McCoy barked, pulling away and folding his arms across his chest.

“According to Vulcan law, we are married.” Spock intoned.  He’d avoided his duty to inform the captain for long enough.

“Not helping!”  McCoy jabbed an accusing finger his way.

“Married?”  Kirk burst out laughing, actually clutching his sides.   “Bones neglected to tell me that part.”

McCoy glowered.  “It was not important.   Besides, judging by your reaction, I made the right decision.”

This sobered Kirk some and looked them both in the eyes.  “You did what you had to do to survive.  That’s all I ever ask.” The captain rested a hand on each of their shoulders.  Spock could feel a flush of love coming off of him.  “I just wish you’d told me.”

“Jim-”

“We’ll forget it ever happened, on the condition that you come to me first, next time.”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “It is highly improbable that the doctor and I will get married a second time.”  Spock’s face was a mask of stone.   He would not be admitting that he took pleasure in the incredulous looks his two human friends passed his way.

 

.o0o.


	14. Chapter 14

.o0o.

Part 14

.o0o.

                Being as it was that he spent the vast majority of his time in some crevice manipulating wires, Scotty was well aware that he was the last stop on the rumor train, despite his high rank.  The end result was that he generally only heard the most pervasive of rumors.  While this did not mean that every rumor that found its way into the Jeffries’ tubes was true, it did mean that there was a good reason for the majority of people to believe it.   So even though he generally did not care to follow rumors, if he heard one that might affect the functioning of the ship or someone he cared about, he felt duty bound to follow up on it. 

                That was how Scotty found himself sitting in the Officer’s Lounge at a table with Kirk, Spock and McCoy over a dinner that he’d otherwise be taking in Engineering.  Nothing seemed terribly out of place between the three of them, or they’d already worked it out, and Scotty relaxed a bit.  “What brings you up from the bowels of the ship, Scotty?”  Kirk asked as he swallowed a heap of mashed potatoes and dug his fork into a thick steak.  

McCoy was looking on disapprovingly, “If you keep eating like that, I’m going to have to put you on a diet.”  Kirk responded with a charming grin.

“Well, I am kind of curious why we went to and left Starbase 6 so far ahead of schedule that I won’t be getting my supplies to fix the heating in Rec Room 3.”  He was also curious why they hadn’t stayed longer on Andar IX with the way his engineers had been going on about how amazing their experience with the tree had been.  And he couldn’t quite figure out what was so important in their delivery to Vulcan that a freighter couldn’t have done it.

Kirk chuckled.  “You know the Admiralty.”  He responded vaguely.  It was enough to let Scotty know that he shouldn’t be asking questions, and it gave away nothing.  “Besides, I’m sure the Vulcans will be able to supply you with exactly what you need.”

“Aye, sir.” It was true, so Scotty had no choice but to drop the topic. 

“Doctor, have you completed your autopsy on Nurse Sagumpta yet?” Spock questioned with no more or less formality than he usually addressed Doctor McCoy.

 Kirk made a face and pushed away his plate overdramatically.   It looked to Scotty like he was acting out a part.  Perhaps something had changed.  “Spock!  I’ve told you; no dead people talk while I’m eating.”

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned back to McCoy seated across from him.  “Yeah.”  McCoy responded solemnly. “Physically, there was nothing wrong with her, besides the whole knife in the eye thing.”  He waves his hand in the general direction of his eye.  “I’ve tried all sorts of brain scans and cerebral tissue analyses.   Nothing to indicate a psychotic break, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.  There was a decreased use of the cerebral cortex, particularly the frontal lobe, within the last few weeks of her life, but there was no deterioration.”

“So?”  Kirk prompted.

“So she simply stopped using the higher functions of her brain nearly half the time she was conscious for no discernable reason.  And that doesn’t even make sense because I’d know if one of my nurses was walking around like a zombie.”  McCoy declared, daring anyone to challenge this.

“Did you spend large quantities of time with Nurse Sagumpta outside of work?”  Did Scotty detect a note of jealousy in Spock’s tone?  And why would he care what the doctor did in his off-hours?

“No.”

“Then it is conceivable that this lapse occurred while she was not around others and was thus undetectable.”   Spock continued.  Scotty decided that that had been a logical question to ask and that these rumors were getting to him.

McCoy shrugged.  “Sure, it’s possible, I guess.  But isn’t that a little odd?”

“You tell me; you’re the doctor.”  Kirk nudged him with an elbow. 

“I suppose…” McCoy started slowly, “That if her mental state was deteriorating for whatever reason, she might attempt to put her best foot forward while on the job.   It really depends on why she wasn’t thinking properly.  And that’s the one question I don’t have an answer to.”

“So your best guess would be?”  Kirk asked, picking up his fork again.

“Psychotic break.”  McCoy grumbled, as if he didn’t want it to be true.    Scotty could only guess what he expected or hoped for. 

There was a brief silence before the doctor continued.  “It’s just that something about this is off to me.  You said she called him Brigley.  Who addresses someone so formally when they’re in a relationship?”   Scotty caught Kirk’s quick glance, and the way his mouth stopped abruptly midway through forming a word.  Spock’s expression was completely blank, but one of his eyebrows flew up. “Present company excluded.” McCoy tagged on in a half-groan.

Scotty, for his part, was trying desperately not to choke on his haggis, and not for the reasons people normally choke on haggis.   Surely the doctor hadn’t meant it quite like that?  Either way, who was he to judge?  “Aye, laddie.”  Scotty agreed amiably to fill the silence.  “That’s not exactly normal.”

“Perhaps in normal romantic relationships between two humans, it is common to refer to each other by first name; however, the situation between Sagumpta and Brigley was far from normal.  It could be that she was attempting to distance herself from the crime she had just committed.”  Spock suggested.

“Or it was a side-effect of the psychotic break.   Or maybe she didn’t say Brigley at all, and I just misheard her.”  Kirk continued as he collected his tray.  “The point, Bones, is that I know you, and I know what you’re trying to do here.  You’re looking for a way that you could have seen this coming and then you’re going to beat yourself up about it.  But the fact of the matter is that some people just snap and you don’t always see it coming.”

“So you don’t want me to keep looking into it?”

 “By all means, keep looking into it.  Just don’t let it become an obsession.”  It sounded like he was speaking from experience.  The captain stood and nodded.  “Gentlemen.”  Then he left.  Probably back to the bridge even though it wasn’t his shift, knowing the captain.

McCoy slid into his chair and gave the engineer a wicked grin, his earlier frustration seeming to vanish.  “Guess what I picked up at Starbase 6?”

“I don’t suppose you got the parts I need to fix the heating unit in Rec Room 3.”  Scotty wasn’t sure what the doctor could have picked up at the Starbase, not to mention when.  They’d been there less than a day, but there seemed to be a flood of activity.  Half his staff had been appropriated in order to fill cargo bay with crates and crates of… whatever it was they were shipping to Vulcan as swiftly as possible.  Cory Schneider was released from the brig without charges being filed and immediately transferred to work at the Starbase with another security guy named Chevalier.  That in itself wasn’t terribly remarkable, but he did find it odd that the captain had decided against waiting a day or two at the Starbase for their replacements to come in. 

“Something much better.”  McCoy declared.  “And tastier than that stuff you’ve been brewing downstairs.”   Scotty knew Spock let a lot more things slide on the ship than he used to, but he was still surprised by McCoy’s willingness to bring up his still in front of their commanding officer. 

Spock took a sip of his tea, looking for all the world like he hadn’t heard a thing.  Scotty let out a breath and leaned in towards McCoy conspiratorially.  “I don’t suppose you want to be sharing that.”

“What fun is drinking alone?”  McCoy countered.  “Why don’t you join me in my quarters at say 21:00 hours?” 

“I’d be delighted.” Scotty responded honestly. 

.o0o.


	15. Chapter 15

.o0o.

Part 15

.o0o.

                “Scotty, you have the con.” Kirk said the instant the Enterprise pulled into an orbit around Vulcan. 

                Scotty nodded from his position next to the captain’s chair.  “Aye, Captain.”

                Spock watched the captain stand and wander over to the helm.  “Mr. Sulu?”

                “Yes, sir?”

                “I want you to proceed with the shipment.  I think one shuttle really ought to be sufficient.”  Spock wondered at the captain’s strange insistence to drop hints as to his intentions instead of giving clear orders.  It was simply not logical.

                “That will take days.” Sulu complained, tacking on a “sir” at Kirk’s look.

                “Is that a problem?”  Kirk asked.

                “No, sir.”  Sulu finished smartly, even as the Captain nodded and walked over to the turbolift.  Spock followed wordlessly.

                “So.” The lift doors shut.  Kirk shifted his weight to one foot, then the other.  A sure sign that he did not desire to voice the comment that followed.  “Homosexuality can’t be common on Vulcan.”

                “It is not.” Spock replied succinctly.

                “Ah.”  Kirk paused and cleared his throat.  “So, this thing between you and Bones, is it going to be an issue?”

                Spock turned and looked him in the eye.  He’d found that such a method was used to convey sincerity in humans and also tended to end conversations more quickly.  “It will not.”

                “Good.” The captain replied, shifting the conversation.  “So how’s this thing going to work, anyway?”

                Spock raised an eyebrow at the captain’s careless wording.  “I have contacted the High Priestess T’Lar and informed her of the situation.  She has agreed to conduct the severance tomorrow morning.”

                “That was quick.”  Kirk commented.

                “It would be illogical to wait.”

                “You sure she can do it?” The lift stopped and the doors swung open, and the two of them headed toward the shuttle bay.

                “I am certain that if it can be done, T’Lar is the most qualified and capable person on Vulcan to do it.”  Spock stated diplomatically.  “She is both a skilled telepath and a student of the more obscure and challenging rituals.”

Kirk made a face.  “I hope this isn’t your way of telling me that this is an obscure and challenging ritual.”

“Divorce, as you would call it, is extremely rare on Vulcan.  When it does occur, it is almost never between two fully linked individuals.”  The fact that he and Dr. McCoy had a surprising amount of mental compatibility actually made things worse.  Still, T’Lar would not have agreed if she thought the severance was impossible. 

“That’s because when two computers marry, there’s nothing to disagree about.” McCoy contributed as he came up behind them.  “There’s only facts and logic.”   His tone may have been harsh, but Spock knew he was just using it to hide his nervousness.   He also did not find the doctor’s words to be particularly offensive.  Instead, he found them surprisingly insightful. 

Spock allowed his friends’ conversation to wash over him as he programmed in his home address and took off.   For the better part of his Starfleet career, Spock had managed to keep his personal life and his professional life strictly separate.  Ever since the mission to Bloringdia, though, the two parts of his life seemed to be intertwining more and more frequently. 

Spock spared a glance at the two humans who were discussing the outcome of a bet Chekov and Scotty had made while excessively inebriated and pondered how much of his life outside of Starfleet they might know.  Although their minds were linked, McCoy did his best not to pry, adulating privacy above his nearly insatiable curiosity.  On the other hand, the doctor had studied his medical file with disquieting thoroughness.  It was difficult to say what he believed was medically relevant.  And as for Kirk, the captain was simply an insufferably nosy individual.   If he wanted to know something, he would undoubtedly find it out.   Spock couldn’t say what aspects of his personal life might have piqued the captain’s interest. 

“Do we get to meet your folks?”  Kirk asked suddenly, dropping casually into the copilot’s chair.

Spock sincerely hoped not.  From McCoy’s snort in the chair behind him, he’d been projecting that thought.  “Doubtful.  Both my parents are scheduled to be off planet for the next thirteen point five days.”

Spock’s predictions were hastily proved incorrect.  “Mother.”  He greeted the woman who appeared outside their shuttle immediately upon landing.

“Spock.”  She returned, doing him the courtesy of not dragging him into a hug in front of his coworkers even though they had not seen each other in some time. 

“This is my captain, James Kirk, and our Chief Medical Officer, Leonard McCoy.   This is my mother, Lady Amanda.”  Spock introduced them, and they each extended a hand in welcome.  “I did not believe you would be present.”

Amanda waved his comment off.  “Your father can handle things on his own.  I was much more concerned about you.”  Spock was a Vulcan so he was not embarrassed, but he did feel a sudden desire to keep his mother separate from his crewmates as much as possible.  Amanda had other ideas.  “Please, come inside.  Tea?  Coffee?”

While his mother bustled about in the kitchen, Spock removed his shoes and led his guests into the living room.  He noted that little had changed since his departure.   His mother had done most of the decorating so there were pictures hanging around the room with other sentimental keepsakes.  Both McCoy and Kirk were looking around enthusiastically.   Kirk found a picture of Spock as a young child with a missing tooth and elected to show it off to McCoy, who seemed altogether too thrilled about it.

“That’s one of my favorites.”  Amanda announced as she walked in, set down the tray of drinks and looked at the picture.  “Sometimes I feel like they’re all going to waste up there.  We hardly ever get human guests, and Vulcans just don’t seem to see the value of displaying pictures like this.”  Amanda gave a soft, small smile that told Spock something bad was coming his way.  He braced himself.  “Want to see Spock’s baby pictures?”

“Absolutely.”  McCoy responded immediately.   Kirk nodded enthusiastically.

McCoy’s face split into one of his rare, genuine smiles, and Spock had the very, very brief urge to allow this inane trend in conversation to continue.  But it did not last long.  “Mother.”

Amanda sighed and came to sit beside her son on the couch.  She put her hand on his shoulder. “Yes, I suppose there are serious matters to attend to.”  Kirk and McCoy both found seats in cushiony armchairs.  A waft of disappointment was coming off McCoy.  “You know, breaking a marital link is supposedly quite painful.  Are you sure you can’t just keep it?”

Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but we’re like cats and dogs.”  McCoy supplied. 

“I’m just concerned.”  His mother stated unnecessarily.  “Your time approaches.”

Spock’s face did not move a muscle, but he was feeling overly warm.  ‘Didn’t know Vulcans could blush like that.’  McCoy was helpfully saying in his mind, and quite probably on accident.  The doctor never did like using that form of communication.  “I do not believe that is an appropriate point to be discussing.”

“Your mate should be aware of these things.” Amanda continued unabashed, ignoring McCoy’s quickly reddening cheeks.  “And T’Pring has taken this opportunity to void the betrothal, which makes this even more problematic.”

“I am aware.” Spock responded stoically.  T’Pring had, of course, felt the break in their own feathery light link.   He’d received a message from her in that regard waiting for him aboard the Enterprise while he’d been trapped in a cell in Ninyal’s palace.   He was also aware that T’Pring could still invoke the right of Kal-if-fee as he had been the one to break the contract.   However, such an action was not only extremely unusual, but would be highly illogical unless her parents completely rejected her chosen mate.

McCoy was shocked, but it was Kirk who asked, “You were betrothed?”

“Most Vulcans are betrothed at an early age.”  Spock stated before his mother could.

“And you broke that because of me.” McCoy added quietly.

Spock stiffened.  “It was my choice.”  And he did not regret it.  It was illogical to choose a marriage to a woman he barely knew over the life of a close friend.    Still, both McCoy and Kirk looked distinctly uncomfortable. 

“All I’m saying,” Spock’s mother said as she collected the empty cups back onto the tray. “Is that being linked might not be so bad.”

“I will bear that in mind.”

.o0o.


	16. Chapter 16

.o0o.

Part 16

.o0o.

                McCoy liked Amanda a great deal.  She seemed to understand and respect Spock’s choice to live in the Vulcan way, but had no inclination to emulate it.  She was sharp as a tack and playful as a child, though her years on Vulcan had molded her playfulness into a very subtle sort.  Best of all, she had the ability to embarrass Spock, and McCoy knew that Spock was embarrassed despite his unperturbed façade. 

                When Amanda offered to make them dinner, not the replicated stuff they ate on the ship, McCoy was quick to offer to help her.  This was a whole new side of Spock that he was getting to explore, and although he couldn’t in good conscious use it against the Vulcan, he was enjoying it.   “And here I thought I was supposed to dislike my mother-in-law.”  He commented cheerfully.

                Amanda laughed heartily and pulled out a cutting board, supplying the doctor with a knife and some vegetable that looked suspiciously like carrots, only green.  “Not really a problem on Vulcan.”

                “Because they’re all in denial about their emotions?”

                “Quite the opposite.”  Amanda joined him with another cutting board and a set of foreign looking vegetables.  “It’s because of their emotions that they get along.  You probably haven’t noticed, but Spock’s love for his mother is leaking through your link with him and making you like me more than you would otherwise.”

                McCoy thought about it and tried to pinpoint where the feeling as coming from.  He honestly couldn’t tell either way.  “I think I’d like you regardless.”

                Amanda smiled.  “Mothers share a link with their children as well.  I admit it has grown weaker over time, but I can still feel his affection for you.”  The doctor did not snort, because that would be rude, but he did give her a skeptical look.  Amanda shrugged.  “Believe what you like.”

                “So your husband won’t be joining us while we’re here?”  McCoy asked, scraping the pieces into a boiling pot of water and searching for a new topic.

                “It depends.   The treaty negotiations have been moving surprisingly quickly.  I suspect he should be finished late tonight.  I couldn’t say whether he’ll return while Spock’s here, though.  They haven’t been on speaking terms since Spock joined Starfleet.”  Amanda sighed wistfully. 

                “That doesn’t seem very logical to me.” 

                A grin broke out over the woman’s features and she slipped into a fit of quiet giggles.  “I’ve been thinking that for years.”

                Seeming to sense that his reputation was about to be tarnished, Spock appeared in the doorway with Kirk.  “Thought we’d give you a hand.”  The captain said.  He seemed to have come to some sort of agreement with Spock, and McCoy was fairly sure he wasn’t going to like the result.

                “Oh, yes.  Spock, why don’t you show him where the n’tissfol roots are?”  With four sets of hands, dinner was finished swiftly and soon they were all sitting around the table munching happily.  At least, three of them were munching away happily.  Spock was as impassive as ever. 

                McCoy was carefully crafting the perfect question that would allow him to ruffle Spock’s feathers without the Vulcan feeling the need to put a stop to it.  What he really wanted to ask was about “Spock’s time”, whatever that meant, or perhaps this T’Pring character.  He knew he wouldn’t get away with it, though, so he’d have to come up with something else.  Kirk beat him to it, leaning in eagerly on Amanda’s other side.  “So what was Spock like as a child?”

                Amanda spared a glance at her son, who was suddenly very interested in his food.  “If you’re looking for any good material, Captain, I’m afraid you’re barking up the wrong tree.  Spock was a very well-behaved child, studious and quiet.”

                Kirk let it drop, but McCoy found that he was completely unsatisfied by that response.  Spock picked up on his train of thought, and raised an eyebrow in his direction.  McCoy dropped it.  The conversation turned to more mundane things like the weather and common recipes that appealed to both Vulcan and human taste buds.  Amanda, unsurprisingly, knew a whole slew of them.

                When dinner was finished and the dishes were cleared away, Amanda excused herself and left the three of them sitting around the table.  Kirk started in as soon as he was sure Amanda was out of hearing range. 

                “Spock and I had a little chat while you were cooking.”

                “And?”  McCoy prompted.  He felt rather like he’d been pulled into the dean’s office for one of his pranks again.  What did they know and what was the punishment?

                “And we’ve decided that we all need to be more honest with each other.  Especially with things that affect one another.  Or the ship.”   Kirk was using his command tone again and McCoy wasn’t sure there was actually room for disagreement here.  He decided to try anyway.

                McCoy cleared his throat.  “Look, we’ve already apologized about this whole link thing…”

                “It’s not just the link.  We’ve all been keeping secrets from each other.  Wouldn’t you have liked to know that Spock was betrothed?” 

Well, when Kirk put it like that, he couldn’t help but agree.  Spock should have told him that from the beginning.   He spared Spock a look and let his displeasure show.  “You know, I would have liked to know that.”  McCoy finally consented.

“And in the spirit of not keeping secrets from each other, I’ll start.”   Kirk shifted around pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket.  “In my defense, though, I wasn’t intentionally keeping this secret.  We’ve just been busy lately.”   He continued as he unfolded the rumpled sheet and turned it around so they could see.  McCoy shifted closer to Spock so he could read over his shoulder.

“Keep the Klingons on board?  What does that mean?” 

“I haven’t a clue.”  Kirk admitted easily.  “I just found it on my desk.”

McCoy furrowed a brow.  “But you wrote it.”

“Apparently.”

“You do not recall writing this note?”  Spock asked.  At Kirk’s shake of the head, he added, “Fascinating.”

McCoy rolled his eyes at the catchphrase.  “You sure you didn’t just write it a long time ago and forget about it?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember wanting to keep Klingons on board anything.”  Kirk huffed.  “And my yeoman hadn’t seen it, so how could it have gotten on my desk?  Any ideas, Spock?”

“Insufficient data.”  Spock said mechanically.  “Given that you do not recall writing it, I suggest we examine the computer to determine if someone else entered your room during the given time.”

“Already tried that.”  Kirk responded, shaking his head.  “No one was there.”

“Perhaps someone entered the room at the same time as Janice Rand and was therefore not recorded in the memory banks.”

“But what’s the point?”  McCoy grumbled.  “Why tell us to keep the Klingons on board?  We don’t even have any Klingons on board.”

“Unless we do.”  Kirk said slowly, “Bones, after we leave Vulcan, I want you to do physicals for the whole crew, starting with the most recent additions.  Spock, I want you to see if anyone has manipulated any data entries in regards to people entering my quarters or transfer papers for the last year.”  Kirk hammered out the details until they were sure they had every avenue covered, then turned to McCoy.  “Your turn.”

McCoy was pretty sure he’d lost track of the conversation somewhere.  “My turn?”

“We were talking about secrets.  Things that might affect the ship or each other?  I hear you’ve got a doozy.”   Kirk’s tone was light, but it could not mask the tension.  He was clearly more concerned than he was angry, and McCoy couldn’t figure out what he’d missed.  And then it clicked.

“You told him!”  He whirled on Spock, thrusting an accusing finger at his chest.  “You promised!”

Spock raised an eyebrow.  “I promised not to ask you about it.  Jim, however, has not.”

Kirk adopted his soothing voice.  “Look, Bones, we’re just trying to help you.   It’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up, you know that.  Besides, if Spock’s suspicions are correct, you could be in a whole mess of trouble.  You should have reported it immediately.”

“I didn’t remember it immediately.”  McCoy burst out, belatedly realizing that Amanda probably heard that shout.  He dropped his voice.  “I didn’t remember until Spock rewired my brain, and even now, I don’t know what he actually did up there.”

“Tell us what you do remember.”  Kirk asked gently as he switched seats to be nearer. 

“I need a drink.”  McCoy muttered as he rubbed a hand over his eyes.   Spock helpfully placed a cup in front of him.   The doctor sniffed at it and gave a wry smile.  “I meant alcohol.”

“I know what you meant.”  Spock responded.

Sighing, McCoy took a swallow of the tea.  He desperately didn’t want to talk about that time, but the cat was already out of the bag.  Really, he should be thankful that Spock hadn’t told the captain sooner.  Surely Spock had been breaking some regulation somewhere by keeping it quiet.  “It happened while I was on Capella IV.” 

McCoy took a deep breath and thought back to the incident.  It was still a jumble of memories and the more he pushed to remember, the worse things seemed to get.  Still, he did have a general idea of what happened.  “A messenger came to me, said there was a Vulcan there asking for a doctor.  It seemed kind of odd to me as I hadn’t heard about any visitors, but I wasn’t about to refuse to help someone, you know?”

McCoy tried to piece together exactly what happened after that. “The messenger led me to the outskirts of town where, sure enough, a Vulcan was waiting.  He wasn’t Starfleet; he was just wearing plain brown robes.  Wouldn’t speak to me, though I asked him all sorts of questions.  He just led me into the desert.  We had to walk a long ways before we found a woman lying under an outcropping of rocks.  She’d been knifed, but the bleeding wasn’t too bad.  I thought her readings were off, but you know, I hadn’t had that much experience with Vulcans and didn’t have the supplies to double check everything.  So I treated her.  Checked for internal bleeding, closed up the wound and even ran a dermal generator over it.   And you know the thanks I get?  The guy who walked me out there held me down and started digging around in my head.   I woke up with two days missing and not a clue what’d happened.”

“But you remember now.”  There was some questioning in Kirk’s tone. 

“Side-effect of my memories coming back to me, I guess.”  McCoy shook his head and wrapped his hands around his cup, taking comfort in the warmth.  “Look, I remember as much as I’ve said, but I have no idea what he did while he was rooting around up there.  I’ve tried to recall, but all I get for my troubles is pain.”

 McCoy wasn’t sure if the trace of hurt was in Spock’s tone or coming over the link. “It is unlikely that they were Vulcans.”

“Kind of figured that.”  McCoy assured him. “But at the time, I didn’t know what Romulans looked like.”

Kirk let the conversation stall for a while before breaking the bad news that McCoy had seen coming a mile away. “If they were Romulans, we’ll need to figure out what they found out from you.  We’ll need to see if anything is in danger.”

“I could assist-“

“No!”  McCoy bristled. “You’ve done enough.”  It was harsh, but he couldn’t bring himself to care just then.

“Bones,” Kirk set a placating hand on his shoulder and tried to appeal to McCoy’s humanitarian nature.  “We have to make sure that the Romulans didn’t get anything that could put people in danger.”

  “I don’t know anything that could put anyone in danger!”  McCoy immediately refuted.  “And I certainly didn’t know anything back then.  Not some low ranking doctor on a backwards planet.”

 “Maybe, maybe not, but do we really want to risk it?”

“Look, Jim, it’s been a long time.  Don’t you think they would have done something by now if they could have?”

“They may be biding their time.”  Spock suggested.  “Understanding what they were after may also give us an insight into their next targets.”

“I am sick and tired of people messing around with my head.”  McCoy snarled, standing up so abruptly that the chair smacked to the floor.  “I have no choice in any of this.  It’s just a long line of one person after another taking a gander into my head.  I’m about to get a mental root canal tomorrow and you think now’s a good time to bring this up?  What that Romulan did was a violation; it was rape.  And now you want me to relive it on the off-chance that you might find some useful information?  I know I was out of line in keeping this whole linking thing from you, but dammit Jim! Can’t a man have any secrets?”  McCoy stomped out of the room.

.o0o.


	17. Chapter 17

.o0o.

Part 17

.o0o.

                Kirk let out a long, low sigh.  “That went well.”

                Spock raised an eyebrow.  “I do not believe so.”

                Kirk gave him a sideways look.  There were still times when he couldn’t tell if the Vulcan was attempting to joke or if he actually still struggled with sarcasm.   “I should have waited.”

                “Dr. McCoy’s reaction to this line of questioning was likely to be as volatile and negative no matter when such questioning occurred.”  Spock comforted. 

                “Well, I could have at least brought some booze.”  Kirk chuckled, though he knew Spock disapproved.  It still baffled the Vulcan why humans wished to become inebriated.  A clear mind was cherished among Vulcans.  Kirk suddenly wondered if Bones had had anything to drink since becoming linked to Spock.   Bones preferred not to drink alone, and they hadn’t been hanging out much lately, so he doubted it.  Would Spock feel the same effects?

                “I shall speak with him.”  Spock stated, standing.

                “No, no.”  Kirk shook his head and stood as well.  “This is my fault.  I’ll go talk to him.”  Spock acquiesced and left the room.    Kirk didn’t need to have a mental link to his friend to know that Bones was hiding out in the shuttle craft.  As much as he disliked the things, it would be the only comfort of familiarity he’d find on the whole planet. 

                The wind had picked up a bit when Kirk went outside, blowing sand uncomfortably in his face.  He spat out a mouthful upon entering the shuttle and found a seat behind his doctor.  Bones didn’t acknowledge him.

                “Look.  I’m ah… I’m sorry about all that.  I shouldn’t have-”          

                “What’s going to happen to the Indyrin?”

                Kirk blinked at the sudden leap.  “Well, Starfleet’s basically handed it over to the Vulcan Science Academy, since the Vulcans seemed particularly interested after reading Spock’s report.  Something about some high order telepath. They’re going to set up a small but long-term science outpost there.   They’ve got some biologists, botanists, anthropologists and historians coming in for research.”

                “No humans?”

                “Not that I’m aware of, no.  Why?”  Kirk wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not, but Bones had turned to him, and he seemed to be calm.

                “The tree spirits on the Excalibur didn’t seem very interested in Spock.  He wasn’t acting strangely at all, in fact.  What if the Indyrin can’t feed off Vulcans?”

                “I’ll pass your concerns along, okay?”  Kirk wasn’t sure it would matter whether the tree could or not.   It had survived for so long without emotions, surely it could make due with Vulcans for a couple years.  But he’d bring it up, nevertheless.  He’d fight for it, too, if only because it’d make Bones happy. 

                “It was so lonely, Jim.”  Bones continued on, staring at nothing.  “Can you imagine hanging on for hundreds of years completely alone, waiting for something that might never happen? It’s extraordinary.  What drove it to push onward?  What kept it going despite seeing all the others of its kind wither away?  It reminds me of this one story I read.  This woman was locked in a cellar with no contact with anyone for over twenty years.   They interviewed her later and asked what her motivation was and she said that she never stopped believing she could make it back to her son.”

                Kirk gave a soft smile, “I wonder where the people of Andar IX went?  Why did they never come back?” Kirk could think of several reasons that he wasn’t about to share.  Many of them were warnings not to continue working with that damn tree.  But Bones didn’t want to hear that. 

                “I was only in there for a short time, but it was truly wonderful.  I wouldn’t mind retiring on that planet.”  Bones commented in a rare moment of voiced sentimentality.  “I can’t help but think that if they could have come back, they would have.  Must have been what the Indyrin thought.”

                Kirk waited for the idea to settle before leaning forward in earnest.  “Bones, I’m sorry.”

                “I’m a doctor; I get that I was repressing the memory, and it really wasn’t healthy.  And I get that you guys are just trying to help.   I’ve never been particularly good with this whole telepathy thing.”  That was the understatement of the century.  Bones averted his eyes and shifted in his chair so they were both facing forward.  Kirk could only see the back of his head.  “I mean, no matter how bad things get, no matter how awful life may be, no matter how many freedoms I’m forced to give up, I always took comfort in the fact that my thoughts and my feelings are my own.  No one can take that away from me.  Only, they can.”   Bones took a deep, shuddery breath.  Kirk stayed silent.  “Both Ninyal’s machine and the link with Spock.  They could control my very thoughts and change how I feel about things.  It was a choice between one fate worse than death to another.  And I swear to God, Jim, if it had been anyone other than Spock, I would have begged for death first.”

                Kirk hadn’t ever really understood Bones’ fearful aversion for anything remotely telepathic, but now it was starting to make more sense.  He also understood that Bones’ attempts to keep the link a secret weren’t a result of embarrassment or shame, but a real, deep-rooted fear.  Kirk clapped him on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.   Screw the regs; he was going to let this forced meld thing drop.  The doctor had been managing so far without any problems and what good would it do to dredge up horrible memories to find out which low-ranking, ancient bits of information the Romulans had stolen? If Bones had had access to anything useful at the time, Kirk would have to do something, but for now, he was prepared to let sleeping dogs lie. 

                Kirk let a smile take over his face and his tone.  “So, have you tried alcohol since being linked to Spock?”

                Bones turned in his seat.  “Haven’t had the chance.”

                “Might be your last opportunity to see if it can affect him over the link.”   Kirk grinned wickedly as he wandered over to the replicator.

                Bones was truly pouting, though Kirk had enough sense of self-preservation not to point that out.  “Spock says I ‘must not imbibe alcoholic beverages so close to the severance lest it negatively impact my mental faculties.’”

                “Ugh, he would!” Kirk commiserated, extending a hand to pull Bones to his feet.  “Let’s go back inside.  Big day tomorrow and I, for one, need my beauty rest.”  Bones was probably rolling his eyes, but he followed Kirk back inside.

.o0o.


	18. Chapter 18

.o0o.

Part 18

.o0o.

                McCoy was from Georgia, so he’d always felt like he knew hot, but climbing the thousands of steps up a mountain in Nowheresville, Vulcan under the blaze of twin suns, McCoy was pretty sure he’d give that claim up.  Spock looked perfectly unperturbed by it, lucky bastard didn’t even sweat, but McCoy took some comfort in Kirk’s own distaste for the trip.  Worse, he couldn’t even complain about it because Amanda was keeping pace with them and no woman from England should have any business being perfectly comfortable in this kind of heat.

                On the way to Vulcan, Spock had given him a detailed explanation of what he would encounter.  They would meet with the great Vulcan T’Lar, who was supposedly some sort of expert in these things and she would conduct a meld in order to break the link.  All McCoy had to do was relax and stay calm.  The message that Spock didn’t send, but McCoy heard anyway, was that there was a chance this process would be entirely unsuccessful.   Spock could probably tell him the percentage chance of success, but really, McCoy just didn’t want to know. 

There was a string of expectations that he was supposed to follow, but McCoy had no inclination to remember them all.    Spock would tell him if he were doing something wrong.  McCoy was much too busy attempting to comply with the first command: keep his mind centered, collected, and as separate from Spock’s own as possible. Besides, the rituals all seemed like a rather pointless generation of work.  It was custom to climb the steps of Mount Whatever and not just take a shuttle… or an escalator to the top.  It was custom to drink y’tiga tea in the morning, even though it smelled terrible and tasted worse.  It was custom to wear plain, off-white robes; it was fortunate that they were of similar build, since Spock had to lend him one of his own.  But McCoy drew the line when Spock wanted him to wear this foreign-looking contraption he called undergarments.  McCoy kept on his boxer-shorts. 

T’Lar was waiting for them at the top of the stairs, looking like she could stand there for eons.   Her expression was severe, but also competent, and McCoy took some comfort in that.  “Live long and prosper, T’Lar.”  Spock greeted, gesturing as well.

“Peace and long life.”  T’Lar responded as she surveyed the group.  Her eyes rested heavily on McCoy for a time before moving on.  “Only you and your mate may enter.”  She finally said.

McCoy thought Kirk might protest, but he didn’t say a word.  Perhaps Spock had already explained the situation to him.  Instead, he and Amanda made their way to a stone bench under an outcropping of rock while McCoy and Spock followed T’Lar into the entryway of a dark cave.  The cave was really more of a passageway and led to a rounded enclosure with an open ceiling.  The room, if it could be called that, was relatively small and contained nothing more than a pedestal and a row of four stone slabs.

 T’Lar gestured for them to lay on the center slabs.  McCoy wondered how this could possibly be a more preferable location than say, a regular bed with pillows and cushions.   He imagined the back ache he was going to have the next day, but mimicked Spock and laid on his back without complaint.  T’Lar came between the two beds and rested one hand on each of their faces, finding the meld points with practiced ease. 

Much as McCoy disliked the mental contact, T’Lar had the clinical presence of a doctor, and that was something he could appreciate.  However, he couldn’t help but shudder at the new presence in his mind.  He didn’t understand how this was considered a safe and desirable practice.   The woman used gentle, soft touches and weeded through information that clung to the edges of the link, not delving deeper than that. 

Finally, she spoke in his mind, both their minds, undoubtedly.  ‘Although I sense a desire inside both of you to be separate, your bond is very strong and you have done much to strengthen it.’  Her voice was somehow more commanding inside his mind than on the outside.  McCoy wanted to contest this, but remembered in time that Spock suggested they not speak unless directly asked a question.

T’Lar went on to explain their connection as she’d seen it.  ‘I see that you intentionally selected the strongest bond to allow easy access to each other’s minds while apart. Your anchors were placed carefully and solidly to provide the greatest protection.  Although you were resistant to placing all four anchors, you eventually did so in order to protect each other.   Spock, you have spent a great deal of time inside McCoy’s mind in an attempt to heal the damage that was inflicted.  McCoy, you in turn have used the link frequently to ascertain Spock’s location and well-being.  Furthermore, the deep friendship you feel for each other and the innate compatibility between your minds have made this bond stronger.  Given all of these aspects, I fear that this bond may be permanent.  The severance of such a bond, if possible, may be damaging.  Do you wish to proceed?’

‘I wish what the doctor wishes.’  McCoy heard Spock state.

McCoy hesitated.  He knew he wanted his mind back, but what about Spock?  On the one hand, he did not want to hurt Spock, particularly if it caused some permanent mental damage.  On the other hand, he wasn’t entirely convinced that being linked to the doctor wasn’t mental damage for the Vulcan.  Spock wouldn’t have gone along with this if it wasn’t what he wanted, right?  ‘Please continue.’

McCoy felt T’Lar’s firm grip on the link and the sudden weight of the force she was exerting.  He hadn’t expected the pain.  Spock hadn’t said there would be pain.  The pain grew and grew until McCoy couldn’t be sure if he was screaming in his head or out loud.  Then everything went black.

_TBC in Dependency: Honor_

.o0o.


End file.
